
Hidden Sun
By
John T. Campbell
Copyright © 2011 by John Campbell
ISBN: 978-0-9832923-5-7 (digital)
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this work in any form.
For information contact the author at: john.t.campbell@juno.com
To Christine, Ron, Amy, and Chase.
Praise for John T. Campbell's other novels
"Campbell knows his stuff! He pulls the reader onto a North Korean roller coaster and it's a wild ride!" Larry Bond, author of Day of Wrath on Raid On Truman.
"Non stop action" Army Times on Raid On Truman.
"Exciting ... well executed" Publishers Weekly on Raid On Truman.
"Entertaining, swashbuckling in the modern vein" Kirkus Reviews on Raid On Truman.
"Exceptional ... Complex intrigue ... It excels in suspense and tension." The Midwest Book Review on Raid On Truman.
"Excellent technical detail and an eye for the personal dimension of modern warfare ... Realism and excitement ... Highly recommended" Library Journal on Raid On Truman
"Action and intrigue abound in this fast paced story . . ." The Naval Institute Proceedings on Raid On Truman.
"Rank this one pretty high on the thriller meter." The Philadelphia Inquirer on Raid On Truman.
Other novels by John Campbell:
Raid On Truman
Vauclain's Shield
Sub Zero
The Telekinetic Man
These Final Hours
Acknowledgments
This novel was first suggested by Jerry Dietrich who told me the true story of the Awa Maru. To him, I am deeply grateful. A number of others helped me greatly in getting thousands of details into the work. Gary Reznikov and my brother, Chris Campbell, helped me with the Russian language, and Judy Wang helped me with Chinese names. Shoko Nogusa helped me with Japanese names. P.J. Waldron helped me with information gathered from the Internet. Rosanne Dietrich helped with research along with Bill Heintzelman, Carol Miner, Kok-Song Fong, Bruce Landis, Mark Gerner, Edith Chu, Shawn Malone, Manuel Abellanosa, Dave Lewandowski, and Hugh Brown of the International Registry of Sunken Ships. Details on the Soviet atomic bombs and their development were taken from Stalin and the Bomb by David Holloway. I also thank Ed Stackler for his excellent editorial comments and Elizabeth Pomada for her invaluable comments on earlier versions of this novel. To these friends, I give my heartfelt thanks.
Author's Note
The Japanese freighter, Awa Maru, and the story of its mistaken sinking by the USS Queenfish as portrayed in this novel are true. Stories abound regarding the treasure that was on the Awa Maru when it sank in early 1945, with the amount of treasure ranging from practically nothing up to five billion dollars. Divers from the People's Republic of China attempted to salvage treasure from the Awa Maru in the late '70s, but succeeded only in recovering some personal effects of the victims, which were then returned to Japan. If they salvaged anything else, then they're not talking.
The tragedy of the Awa Maru with 2009 lives lost remains one of the largest losses of life at sea in history, greater than the infinitely more famous Titanic and Lusitania.
As far as the author can determine, the incidents with the largest loss of life at sea are as follows:
World War II records of the number of lives lost at sea are incomplete and sketchy at best. The Japanese alone lost over 1600 ships, including 20 aircraft carriers. If the truth were completely known, many other ships might replace the ships on the above list.
The remaining story of the salvage of the Awa Maru and of the secrets on board, as well as the Han Gao, are fiction.
The Awa Maru remains to this day in the Taiwan Strait covered with mud and awaiting the next hearty souls who will attempt to recover its treasure and uncover its secrets.
PROLOGUE
Murder Below
The steel spear ripped through the water straight at Steve Hendrick.
Hendrick caught movement out of the corner of his eye and jerked his head to one side, exhaling noisily and sending a cloud of bubbles racing to the surface. The spear raced past, missing him by less than an inch. He glanced around quickly to find his attacker. Five divers were coming straight at him a hundred feet away in the murk, using powered minisubs.
Hendrick hooted a warning into his mouthpiece and began swimming quickly toward his diving companion who was hovering over the seabed. His brother, Frank, had caught on immediately and had his spear gun ready. He aimed and fired, the propulsive gas rapidly rising away from them. The spear went into the crowd of attacking divers causing them to scatter, then fell harmlessly to the depths below.
Steve Hendrick could see his brother look around in panic to find some cover. Steve knew there was only one place to go, the wreck that lay below them in pieces on the sea floor. He hooted again into his mouthpiece, pointed downward, and began to race for an open hatch in what was left of the superstructure.
The whine of the minisubs filled the water around them as the brothers swam for the remains of what they had hoped was the Awa Maru, a Japanese freighter sunk near the end of World War II with billions of dollars in treasure aboard. Instead they had found the Han Gao, a Chinese ship, which had foundered and sunk in the 1920s taking over three hundred souls with her.
They reached the hatch and swiftly got inside amid a hail of spears from their attackers. Frank Hendrick set up inside the hatch opening, daring anyone to come through. Steve Hendrick looked around anxiously - they were safe for the moment, but they were also trapped, with their only help, their partner Joe Malik, in the salvage ship one hundred and twenty feet above them. They had only one speargun between the two of them and only two spears left. Judging by the way they're firing at us, the enemy has ten spears apiece, thought Steve.
A hail of spears flew through the hatch opening, causing Steve to grab his brother and pull him back. The spears hit the inside metal bulkhead with resounding cracks, emphasizing the force and deadliness of the weapons arrayed against them. Steve backpedaled, pulling his brother through a corridor, which led downward at an awkward angle into the interior of the ship. The meager light filtering down from the surface faded into a sinister gloom as they went deeper inside the wreck. They approached a porthole, only a foot above the silt outside the ship. The window sent a shaft of murky light across their path.
Steve gave a nervous glance through the porthole, then swiftly looked at the hatch as another volley of spears banged off the bulkheads. He suddenly felt his brother's body jerk violently. He looked him over with dread and saw the spreading darkness in the water around him. The light from the porthole lit the steel shaft protruding from Frank's midsection. They had shot through the porthole and had hit Frank in the stomach. The wounded man spit out his mouthpiece and gurgled in agony. Steve quickly replaced his brother's mouthpiece and desperately pulled him away from the porthole. He shoved his brother into a dark corner and lingered a moment with his brother's suffering, Frank's body twitching and issuing low moans that were conducted through the water with horrifying clarity.
Steve took the speargun from him and set up in the shadows near the outside bulkhead. Seconds later, a diver cautiously swam through the hatch and peered into the darkness that filled the ship. Hendrick fired, the speargun recoiling firmly against his shoulder as the gas canister drove the thin metal spear through the water.
The spear shattered the diver's facemask, driving through his left eye socket and into his brain. The diver put a feeble hand on the steel shaft, then fell convulsing to the bottom of the corridor. The light from the hatch played intermittently over the diver's twitching body, slowly revealing a blood red mark on the diver's wet suit. Hendrick stared at the crimson, dripping lines, the Japanese characters searing itself into his mind.
Who are they? Why do they want to kill us?
He had a quick thought that they were trying to protect what they thought was the Awa Maru and the supposed billions within. The joke's on them, he thought grimly. Hendrick forced his mind back to their desperate situation and swam to his injured brother, pushing him deeper into the ship. One spear left, he thought grimly.
He shoved his brother around a corner that came up from deep water at a strange angle, then quietly waited for them to come. Moments later the corridor was lit abruptly by a bright light. Hendrick waited until he could hear their exhaust bubbles, then rolled around the corner. He lined the gun up on a dark form and pulled the trigger. The spear slammed into the shoulder of one of the divers, penetrating completely through his body and exiting out his back under his shoulder blade. Hendrick could hear him groan in pain.
The other three divers opened fire. Hendrick twisted to avoid the volley. One spear hit his tank and fell harmlessly away. Another grazed his leg, slicing his wet suit and shredding the skin underneath, and the third put a deep gash in his right arm, sending a spray of red into the water around him. Hendrick gave a powerful scissors kick and got around the corner next to his brother.
Hendrick shoved him deeper into the interior of the ship to clear the area. He pulled his knife out of his ankle scabbard and turned to face his attackers in a desperate last stand. He waited for a moment, anticipating when they would come around the corner, then charged around the edge of the bulkhead as he saw their light increase in intensity. He met them going full speed, his knife out in front immediately sinking into a diver's wet suit. A second later, the knife blade drove past the rubber skin and into flesh, the water filling with shadows as the diver's life spilled into the sea.
He grappled with another diver, trying to keep the diver between him and the third man so his enemy couldn't use his speargun. He heard someone behind him and shoved his assailant away to protect his brother. He immediately noticed that Frank's mouthpiece floated uselessly in front of him, leaking bubbles in a steady stream. A cloud of dark water flowed around his neck. Frank was dead. His throat had been cut by the diver who now raced toward him.
Hendrick and his brother's murderer slammed together in a fury, each swinging their knives at the other. They grappled, Hendrick driven by revenge, and his enemy driven by murderous intent. Hendrick briefly got his knife hand free and slashed the diver across the side of his face sending a thin spray of red into the water. His enemy ignored the wound and fought on, grabbing Hendrick's knife hand once again.
The struggle with the diver went on as the light bounced up and down over the bulkheads, now and then splashing over them revealing contorted faces intent upon murder. Hendrick grabbed the diver by the throat and tried to get his knife hand around to attack him. The light from the other diver swayed and wandered over the diver's face, only inches from Hendrick's, revealing strings of flesh stretched tight. The Oriental eyes were dead of all emotion except rage.
Then the sharks came.
They came down the pitch-black corridor, their tails slapping against the bulkheads in their haste to attack their prey. Hendrick and his attackers heard the noise but couldn't guess the origin. The battleground suddenly turned into twisting, arching bodies, the water swiftly going black in spite of the powerful lights on the divers' bodies. The lights wavered and flickered about panic-stricken, shedding light dimly through the red mist, illuminating the empty bulkhead one second and the pile of men and shark bodies the next. The crimson water blended with the blood red lines on the diver's suits until the characters were indistinguishable in the stained sea.
The light in its final moment caught a soulless eye above multiple rows of razor sharp teeth, then went out, plunging the underwater hell into total darkness. The divers died one by one, their screams distorted by the sea into sickening gurgles. Hendrick retreated until he had his back against the bulkhead. The water moved around him, the pressure coming at him in waves as the bodies in the space gave out their final death throes.
Hendrick felt a huge presence near him. Wiggling, twitching, writhing.
Eating.
CHAPTER 1
Pirates
Steve Hendrick peered down the gun barrel of his AK47, lining up the sights on the rapidly approaching boat. His salvage vessel already had numerous bullet holes put there a week ago by the very same people who were now charging toward him.
Hendrick took a quick look around and noted the position of each of the crew. They were all behind cover, and behind automatic weapons as well. He swept the sky with his eyes and noted that, except for an advancing bank of storm clouds from the west, the sky was clear of everything, including their air cover that was supposed to protect them from the swarming hordes of pirates that were about to attack them.
From time to time they had gotten a glimpse of their enemies, their copper colored skin glistening in the strong tropical sunlight. Their clothes were a mixture of green and brown fatigues, sweatshirts and multicolored pants with almost all their heads covered with brightly colored, intricately woven bandanas. They were Indonesians, Filipinos, Chinese, with an occasional Vietnamese thrown in. Almost all had high cheekbones, hard eyes, and thin, untrimmed mustaches. Some were normal looking. Dress them up in three piece suits and drop them in a bank and no one would give them a second look. Others were filthy, scurvy looking men with ripped clothes, unshaven faces and rotten teeth. Major cleaning and plastic surgery would have to be performed to pass them off as bankers, or even as human beings.
These weren't the unsophisticated pirates of two hundred years ago. They had gone high tech and had some of the latest weapons available. They were totally amoral and killed at the slightest provocation. They had been known to hang their prisoners by their feet and burn them alive, then eat their ears as a final act of barbarism.
Warnings from the International Maritime Bureau, which monitors pirate attacks worldwide, are issued to local law enforcement authorities when an attack report is received. Regional response to pirate attacks varied greatly from excellent response in the Malacca Straits to less than adequate in the Java Sea, South China Sea, and the Taiwan Strait.
Hendrick could now see that there were three boats heading toward them. The pirates only had two boats the week before. They had brought up some reinforcements. During the night, they had hidden behind Niushan Dao, the island about eleven miles to the northwest. The island had shielded them from his boat's radar and resulted in less warning time prior to their attack. Hendrick's partner, Joe Malik slid up to him and gave the advancing boats a worried look.
"What the hell good is the Chinese Navy if they're never around when these guys show up?" asked Malik.
"Yeah," grunted Hendrick. He questioned Malik with his eyes.
"The captain has been making the call ever since we spotted them," answered Malik. They heard their boat's engines increase in speed and their exhaust noise grow in volume. The stodgy salvage craft would try to maneuver, but the swift pirate boats would run circles around it.
The salvage craft was one hundred feet long with a large superstructure rising high above the main deck. The superstructure included the ship's cabin with the bridge above it and the flying bridge above that. The ship had a flat aft deck with a deck crane used for the salvage equipment and a small housing used to shelter the diving and other recovery equipment. Narrow decks, bounded on one side by the gunwales and on the other side by the superstructure itself, ran on either side of the boat from the aft deck to the smaller foredeck on the bow of the vessel. Hendrick and Malik huddled on the starboard side just aft of the foredeck.
The first boat came straight at them and ran by close to port. The salvage crew opened up almost as one and sent a hail of lead toward the attacking boat. The pirates responded in kind and pounded the port side with gunfire. In a flash they were by the salvage vessel and sliding over the surface of the water to make a quick turn to run by them again.
The second boat flew by on the starboard side, causing Hendrick and Malik to scramble for cover. Hendrick emptied half a clip into the second boat, then ducked behind the starboard gunwale. He checked his crew's status with a feverish glance and saw one man lying still on the bridge wing above him, a red stain down the front of his white shirt. One other man was holding his shattered arm, which was also running red with new blood. The bridge windows had so many holes in it that it was impossible to see through the cracked and delaminated plastic.
Another of the crew had been on the flying bridge atop the ship's superstructure and was now struggling to get down from his perch as quickly as possible. He was swiftly descending a ladder on the starboard side forward of the bridge with his legs and arms flying in panic stricken movement. As Hendrick watched, the man's foot slipped off a ladder rung slick with sea mist and became wedged between the ladder and the side of the ship. The man slipped further down the ladder and began to dangle by his trapped leg. Hendrick whirled around and glanced at the rapidly approaching pirate boat. The pirate gunners were getting ready to open fire on his ship and the unfortunate man stuck in the ladder.
"Joe, you've got to keep their heads down!" shouted Hendrick and gestured quickly toward the pirates.
Malik looked at him as if he were crazy. Hendrick grabbed his arm and pointed at the man desperately trying to free himself from the ladder.
Malik nodded quickly. He peered over the gunwale at the rapidly approaching boat and shouted an oath at their attackers.
Hendrick slung his AK47 over a shoulder, ran to the foredeck and immediately began climbing the ladder to reach the trapped man. Behind him the gunbattle began, with Malik and other crew members opening fire on the pirates. The battle was joined with both sides firing automatic weapons and trading lead at an enormous rate. Hendrick could hear bullets slap into the side of the superstructure just inches from him. He climbed as fast as his wildly pumping legs could move.
He reached the trapped man and tried pushing the man upward to relieve the pressure on the man's leg, but to no avail. A burst of gunfire from the attacking boat sent a stream of bullets slamming into the bulkhead and ladder around Hendrick and the trapped man. The air around them was filled with pieces of the bulkhead and wildly flying bullet fragments. Hendrick froze, expecting the thud of a bullet hitting him in the back. His muscles tensed, and he had the quick thought that this might be his last moment alive.
The gunfire stopped, and the air calmed around them. Hendrick shook his head, looking at the man he was holding while simultaneously checking his senses. There was no pain, just some stinging around his face and left arm, and to his amazement the man next to him hadn't been hit either. He used the respite from the gunfire to swiftly climb past the trapped crewmember to pull him upward.
Hendrick glanced about and saw both attacking pirate boats circling around for another run at them. He had only seconds before the gunbattle resumed. He quickly climbed the last few rungs to the flying bridge, then lay down on the deck and leaned back over the edge. He grabbed both of the man's hands and pulled with all his strength. After some resistance, he felt the man's body begin to move toward him, and he heard his shipmate grunt with the effort. After a desperate minute of struggle, the man's leg came free from behind the ladder. He gave Hendrick a frantically grateful look. The man came up the ladder quickly just as the pirates opened fire. He made it over the deck edge and onto the flying bridge amid a hail of bullets.
Hendrick looked him over quickly. To both their amazement, he remained unhurt. The rescued man said something in Chinese, which Hendrick didn't understand so he just grinned at him in return. He looked at his surroundings and suddenly understood why the man wanted to leave the flying bridge during the battle. The bulkheads were made of metal but of thinner construction than the rest of the ship. Hendrick could see daylight through the myriad holes in the bulkhead from their attackers' gunfire.
Stay here and we're dead, he thought. He peered through a large hole in the port side bulkhead and saw that the attacking boat was still swinging wide to line up on the lumbering salvage boat. They both had fifteen to twenty seconds to get to relative safety below. Hendrick leaped to his feet and dragged the crewmember with him. He yelled to the Chinese man to follow him, then wondered if the man understood him. There was no time to explain. He leaped over to the port side ladder and flung himself over the side. Hendrick gripped the railing and planted each foot on the outside of the railing, then released his grip just enough to slide quickly down the ladder with his feet running down the outside of the ladder. Hendrick hit the deck below and immediately looked upward to see if the man was following him.
The crewman imitated Hendrick's actions, and after a false start, he swiftly slid down the ladder landing next to Hendrick. Hendrick slapped him on the back to the man's obvious delight then made his way forward and crossed the foredeck to the starboard side where Malik was looking over his M16.
"You done wandering all over the neighborhood?" asked Malik. Hendrick nodded. "Is he okay?" asked Malik.
Hendrick knew Malik had been worried about both of them. Beneath the gruff exterior, Joe Malik cared about people. "Yeah, he's all right," replied Hendrick.
"One of these days you're going to get your butt shot off doing crazy shit like that," mumbled Malik.
Hendrick looked at him closely. "Not when I've got you to cover my ass."
Malik grunted and shook his head in seeming disgust.
Hendrick glanced forward and saw that the third and largest boat was not coming near them. He and Malik recognized it as the pirate leader's boat from the cleaner, fancier construction. They had caught a glimpse of the lead pirate when they had attacked the week before. He was a very small man with grotesque features. He seemed to be content to circle at a distance and just observe the attack. Hendrick wished the boat would come nearer so that he could get in one good burst from his automatic weapon. Just one clip, he thought. Twenty rounds into the bridge, into the little bastard that was orchestrating it all.
Joe Malik saw Hendrick's stare and the set of his face. "Yeah. Just one good shot."
Hendrick turned away with an oath. He went back to the port side with Malik following him to locate the two attacking pirate boats.
"Whoa, what's that?" asked Malik, his eyes fixed on the mother ship in the distance.
"What's the matter?" asked Hendrick who didn't turn from his assessment of the other boats. Malik scrambled over next to his friend.
"Looks like someone fell overboard from the head ship," replied Malik.
"Too bad," said Hendrick. "Tell the captain to head in that direction. Maybe we can run him over."
Malik gave his partner a short grin then braced himself for another attack by the pirates. The two smaller pirate boats began circling the salvage vessel and peppering it with automatic weapons' fire. Hendrick and Malik fired long bursts at the attackers then hunkered down behind the gunwale to reload. The pirates suddenly stopped firing, and a strange quiet hung over the four boats.
"Now here comes their offer," said Hendrick. Malik nodded and grunted in return. They went back to the starboard side to listen to the expected pirate announcement.
"Salvage crew! Hear me!" said an amplified voice from one of the pirate boats.
"This guy speaks better English than the last guy," said Malik.
"Maybe they thought we didn't understand them last time," said Hendrick.
"Heave to and prepare to be boarded!" said the voice with almost no accent. "All we want is the recovered treasure. We will spare your lives!"
Hendrick peeked over the side of the ship to eye the still circling boats. They had a lot less holes in them than his salvage ship. The pirate also said something in Chinese, which Hendrick took to be a repeat of the same message.
"You have one minute to reply," said the pirate voice.
Hendrick half stood and yelled forward and aft. "Everyone hold your fire!" He then slid down next to Malik. "If they want to give us a minute, then we'll take it. We'll be that much closer to the squall over there."
Malik risked a peek over the gunwale and saw a storm that was rapidly approaching. Hendrick slid over to a phone station and dialed the bridge. The ship's captain answered the phone.
"Captain, head at full speed toward the storm," ordered Hendrick then hung up.
"What do you have in mind, Steve?"
"The storm will make it harder for them to board us if we're rolling thirty degrees," said Hendrick.
"Yeah, if we can make it in time," replied Malik as he gave a worried glance at the distance they had to travel to get into the rough water. He checked his M16, pulled back on the cocking bar, and put the weapon on full automatic. Hendrick did the same with his AK47.
"Time is up!" said the pirate voice. "What is your reply?"
"Bastards," said Hendrick. "They only gave us forty-five seconds."
"Can't trust anyone anymore," said Malik. He tensed, waiting for the word from Hendrick.
"Now!" shouted Hendrick. He turned aft shouting as loud as he could. "Fire! Fire!"
Both he and Malik swung their gun barrels over the gunwale and pointed them at the closest boat. They emptied their clips with rapid bursts of fire into the bridge, shattering the windows and putting holes into the steel sides. Most of Hendrick's crew fired at the same boat, shredding the gunwales and sending pieces of metal flying in all directions. Hendrick saw at least three of the attackers fall away from their positions. He ducked behind the side of the ship and nodded to himself in satisfaction.
"You think they got the message?" asked Malik.
"Think so," replied Hendrick.
They began to hear a rapid thumping sound and an immediate crashing and rending of metal on the other side of the ship. Hendrick scrambled up on all fours and went forward, around the base of the ship's superstructure and peered around to the port side with Malik close on his heels. Suddenly shards of plexiglass and steel flew around them. They threw themselves down flat on the deck just below the chaos above them.
"Sounds like a fifty caliber," shouted Hendrick above the noise. Malik nodded and spat some glass out of his mouth. He shook his head clear of the metal pieces that had sprayed over them from above.
"That would be something new for them," he replied.
They both peered over the gunwale during a brief lull in the gunfire and saw that the crew of the second pirate boat had uncovered a large belt-fed machine gun and were dismantling the port side of Hendrick's ship with a hail of lead. Hendrick slammed home another clip then emptied it into the area around the machine gun position. He saw one man fall, but another immediately took his place, quickly swinging the machine gun around to point directly at Hendrick.
Hendrick rolled to his right and scrambled across the foredeck as gunfire pounded into the ship's superstructure where he had just been. Hendrick kept going with his eyes tightly shut to avoid the pieces of metal and flying glass, until he bumped into Malik's back. The firing stopped for a moment, and Hendrick risked opening his eyes. He gave Malik a desperate look.
"Unless we stop that machine gun, it's Adios Muchachos," said Hendrick.
"Yeah, they'll cover their boarding party with that fifty caliber," said Malik. He looked around him with desperation. "Just how are we -" He stopped in midsentence as he realized the imminence of their defeat at the hands of the pirates. And defeat would mean only one thing - death. He got up enough courage to peer at the pirate boat. The boat with the machine gun was traveling on their port beam and edging closer so its crew could leap aboard.
Hendrick squirmed around and spotted another boat, the one they had hit with several good bursts of gunfire. It had wandered off course and Hendrick immediately knew why. They had hit the helmsman. In a few moments, their adversaries would correct that problem and be on them once again. He looked about desperately for an additional weapon they could use against the approaching pirate craft.
"Yeah," said Hendrick under his breath as a new thought occurred to him. He grabbed Malik's arm. "We need bottles, rags, and gasoline."
Malik's eyes showed he knew exactly what Hendrick was up to. "Yeah. If it was good enough for Molotov, it's good enough for us."
Hendrick quickly began to scramble aft on all fours along the starboard side, and Malik wondered where he was going to get all the makings of a Molotov Cocktail.
"We'll use the gas cans on deck," said Hendrick.
"The boat is almost on us!" said Malik.
They scrambled up to the gasoline supply for the emergency generators, which was just outside the aft part of the superstructure. Malik crawled over to Hendrick and took two cans of gasoline, which were shoved toward him by Hendrick.
"Throw it high over the boat!" said Hendrick as he brought his automatic weapon up ready to fire. Malik nodded and scrambled across the aft deck taking up a position behind the deck crane on the port side. He turned to see if Hendrick was ready. Hendrick gave him a thumbs-up.
Malik drew his arm back and swung the ten gallon gas can around in a rapid motion letting go at the apex of his swing. The can tumbled out over the pirate boat, which was within twenty feet of the salvage ship's port side. Hendrick opened fire when it was ten feet over the boat's deck.
They could hear several slugs hit the can with a hollow, tinny sound. A second later, the vapor in the half empty can exploded, showering flaming gasoline over the aft end of the boat. The machine gun crew was largely unharmed, although one man had his back set on fire and fell screaming to the deck. Malik had missed the most important target of all, the machine gun nest. The gunners swung the barrel of the machine gun toward the salvage ship's aft deck.
Malik tossed his second and last gasoline can high into the air and this time put it perfectly over the pirate machine gun. Hendrick was ready and put two quick bursts into the can. The can was completely full of gasoline and wasn't immediately set afire by the bullets passing through. Gasoline sprayed out of the bullet holes in the whirling can and fell in small droplets over the machine gun and its crew. The pirate gunners got off a quick burst a split second before the gasoline mist descended upon them. When the gas hit the flames already on the deck, it detonated with a loud thump as the fuel-air mixture exploded into a large fireball that consumed the machine gun and everyone within ten feet of it. Hendrick saw several pirates fall screaming and writhing to the deck.
Malik ducked the last few rounds from the machine gun, then joined Hendrick in pumping several clips of bullets into the pirate boat. The fire spread over the aft end of the boat, and ammunition began to go off as the flaming gasoline flowed across the deck.
That's what we needed, thought Hendrick. If we had been lucky enough to shoot the machine gun crew, others would have only taken their place. Now, not only is the machine gun useless, but they have a fire they have to put out before they can attack us again. The pirate boat swerved away from them and slowed down, dropping swiftly aft of Hendrick's boat as the salvage vessel lumbered inexorably along.
Hendrick suddenly caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He knew it wasn't any of his crew, and there was only one other possibility. He whirled around facing the danger and shoved Joe Malik to one side. Two pirates had jumped aboard and were just getting set up behind some deck equipment on the port side. Hendrick and Malik leaped behind the deck crane just as the pirates opened fire. Bullets slapped and pinged around the support for the metal crane, showering them with bullet fragments.
"Joe, keep 'em busy while I get around them," shouted Hendrick over the gunfire. Malik nodded.
Hendrick waited until the pirates began to reload then slithered along the extreme aft deck to get to the starboard side. He slowly worked his way forward, keeping low and only moving when he heard gunfire from the pirate AK47s. He went from one piece of equipment to another until he had the ship's superstructure between him and their attackers. He rose into a crouch, ran up the starboard side, across the foredeck and peered around the ship's forward cabin down the port side.
He could see the two pirates facing aft, intermittently firing their weapons at Joe Malik. Hendrick boldly walked down the port side, then stopped just twenty feet away. One of the pirates said something to the other, then turned to run up the port side to outflank their adversaries. He spotted Hendrick standing in his way a second before Hendrick opened fire. The pirate's mouth dropped open in astonishment.
The burst from Hendrick's weapon cut across the man's chest and flung him backwards to the deck. Hendrick readjusted his aim and squeezed the trigger. He fired only one shot, which went wild, then his weapon went empty.
The second pirate heard the gunfire behind him but was slow to react. Only when his companion's body rolled into the back of his legs did he realize that someone was behind him. Hendrick's single bullet whizzed past his head as he squirmed around to get a shot at Hendrick. The pirate fell backwards, tripping over his friend's body and momentarily ruining his aim.
Hendrick leaped toward the fallen pirate swinging his empty AK47. The pirate saw the large American running toward him and fired a short, badly aimed burst, which hit a nearby bulkhead. Hendrick was on him a split second later.
Hendrick's rifle butt smashed into the pirate's right arm, causing him to shout with pain. Hendrick raised the rifle once again after kicking the pirate's weapon aside. The pirate slid sideways, avoided Hendrick's blow, and managed to get out onto the open aft deck. He stood and ran for all he was worth toward the starboard side. Malik was taken by surprise, but quickly aimed and got off a short burst of gunfire in the pirate's direction. He was off the mark.
The pirate didn't hesitate. He ran full speed toward the starboard gunwale and didn't stop at the railing. He leaped headfirst over the side of the ship and was gone.
Hendrick ran to the railing and saw only a dot on the sea, which was the pirate's head among the waves. Malik checked the aft deck and passageways up the port and starboard sides of the ship, and double-checked the other pirate's body to make sure he was dead. He declared that the ship was clear of any more of the invaders as Hendrick walked toward the stern.
Hendrick glanced forward and saw that the storm would be on them in just a few moments. A look aft told him that the pirate boats would not catch up to them before they were well into the rough water.
His gaze centered on the large boat, which contained the pirate leader who had stayed well away from the fighting. Hendrick stood up straight and quickly brought his right arm up with a clenched fist while slapping the inside of his right bicep with his left hand in a universal gesture of contempt.
"I hope he's watching us," sneered Hendrick.
"Let's also hope he's not doing it down a gunsight," said Malik who slid across the deck next to his friend.
Hendrick ducked below the stern rail and gave Malik a rueful grin. His face gave away the stress and fear from the battle. He let out a sigh and gave Malik a quick look. His friend understood. All the smart talk was just a cover for what they were feeling inside. They and the entire crew knew that the pirates would have killed them all without hesitation, recovered treasure or not.
The squall hit their ship forcefully, taking their breath away with the storm's intensity. Sheets of rain driven by a powerful wind tore at them as they hurriedly made their way across the aft deck toward the ship's cabin. The ship lurched and rolled with the heavy seas as the two men jolted up a short ladder then staggered toward the bridge. They entered the bridge and squinted into the wind that came through the holes in the shattered windscreen.
Captain Loh Yi-Song turned from his position at the helm and gave them a fierce look. "My helmsman took a bullet in the shoulder, and another -" he gestured in the direction of an inert form stretched out on the deck "- was not so lucky."
Hendrick and Malik gave the body of one of their crew, a man named Li, a look of sympathy. The helmsman, Ko, was being attended to by another man who made compassionate noises as he bandaged his shipmate.
"This is getting expensive," said Loh.
"I know," replied Hendrick in a low voice.
Loh, his face betraying new emotions, looked at Hendrick. "Thank you for saving one of my men."
Hendrick questioned him with a look.
"The one who had gotten stuck on the ladder," explained Loh. "I'm not used to seeing a Westerner save the life of a poor Taiwanese."
Hendrick nodded and smiled briefly in return.
Loh turned and looked straight ahead. "If you need any help from me in the future, I stand ready. If trouble finds you, I will stand with you."
Hendrick looked at the Taiwanese captain in amazement. The life of one of his men meant so much to him that he would pledge unconditional help to a virtual stranger. "Thank you, Captain," replied Hendrick in a low, surprised tone.
Malik pointed forward to an object in the water off the port bow. "What's that?"
Hendrick immediately got a set of binoculars and raised them to his eyes. Something was alternately bobbing above the waves and being overwhelmed by them. He caught movement in the oblong shape, but mist from the wave tops obscured any details.
"It looks like a body," said Hendrick. He remembered Malik saying he had seen someone fall overboard.
"Should we run him over?" Malik was only half kidding.
Hendrick shook his head in indecision, then replied, "No, let's grab him. You never know. Maybe he'll be of some use to the Chinese Navy. Maybe he'll tell them where the pirate base is located."
Malik nodded and they both went out the port side of the bridge into the weather. When they reached the main deck, Hendrick got a boat hook, Malik standing ready with his M16. The salvage ship pounded on the waves, gradually pulling alongside the person in the water. A hand stretched out of the water in supplication, then a head popped above the waves. Hendrick squinted into the rain and reached out with the pole.
I'll be damned, he thought. It's a woman. This ought to be interesting.
CHAPTER 2
The Woman
Hendrick snagged the woman by the back of her belt with the boat hook and hauled her close by the ship's hull. Malik put down his weapon and threw her a line. She grabbed it and tried to climb up the side of the ship but was too weak. Hendrick pulled on the pole raising her out of the water until Malik could get a hand on her and drag her over the gunwale. She flopped down on the deck like a caught fish. Hendrick and Malik each grabbed an arm and carried her below deck to an empty cabin.
She sank into a chair, inhaling deeply trying to catch her breath. She brushed her wet hair out of her face and looked over the two men who had saved her. They both stared at her as if she had just been dropped from a flying saucer.
"Could I have a towel?" she asked in a meek fashion.
"Who are you?" asked Malik.
"Maggie Ramsey," she replied. "I want to thank you -"
"Where did you come from?" he continued.
"I . . . I escaped from those pirates," she stammered and she pointed outboard as if the men didn't know where the pirates had gone.
"By jumping into the sea?" asked Malik incredulously.
"Yes, I hoped that you would pick me up," said Maggie.
"We almost didn't," replied Malik. "Why were you with the pirates?"
"I was captured a couple of weeks ago," she said. She studied their faces and saw that her statement had only engendered more mistrust. She began to shiver. "I'm cold. Can I have a towel and a blanket?"
"What did they want with you?" asked Malik. "Why didn't they kill you?"
"What do you mean 'what did they want with me'?" she replied with ill concealed impatience.
"You know what I mean," said Malik whose eyes and the set of his mouth told her that he didn't believe a word she had said.
Her defiant look softened into fear and depression. "They were going to try to get a ransom for me." She looked at Hendrick, who hadn't said anything yet, to see if he was sympathetic. He regarded her warily.
"Did they rape you?" asked Malik.
Her face clouded over. She shook her head. "No."
Malik let out a puff of air to show his disgust. "She's lying, Steve. Throw her back." He gave Hendrick a long look, but Hendrick didn't react to his partner's remark.
Malik finally looked about in indecision, then put the assault rifle in his right hand and turned to go. "I've got things to do. Do what you want with her. But be careful."
Hendrick nodded slightly but didn't take his eyes off the blond woman in front of him. Malik left the room and closed the door. Hendrick reached over and locked it. He crossed the room and pulled open a drawer, producing a small hand held instrument with a loop of thick wire at the top. He turned it on and walked toward her.
Maggie immediately grew nervous. She pushed the metal detector away as he began to wave it slowly over her body. He gave her an annoyed look and began again. She shoved it away a second time. He backed up a step and glared at her.
"All right, we'll do it the hard way. Take off your clothes," he said.
Maggie reached up to hold the buttons on her blouse. She glared back at him. "Not a chance. If you want to rape me, you'll have to work for it."
He rolled his eyes slightly and screwed up his mouth in impatience. "I'm not in a hurry to contract twenty different kinds of venereal disease." He gave her a fierce look. "You just came from a group of people who have been trying to kill all of us for the last two weeks." He faced her directly and got within a few inches of her face. "I have to see and feel it all if you're going to stay on board."
"You're not going to examine me like I'm a slab of meat! You got some nerve!"
"Fine. Have it your way," he said. He grabbed her by the front of her blouse and dragged her over to the door. He threw the door open and yanked her down the passageway to the aft deck. She protested and hit him with her fists, but he ignored her futile attempts and yanked her over to the railing.
"What are you doing?!" she shouted. She screamed in vain as he bent her over the railing, then reached down and grabbed one leg to shove it over as well. "No! Don't!" she yelled. She was now hanging over the railing except for one leg that she pressed to the gunwale to prevent from going overboard.
"No search, no stay," said Hendrick as he reached for her other leg.
A wave came up and brushed by the side of the ship slapping her in the face with cold water. She choked and gurgled a bit, then shouted surrender. "All right! All right!" she said in a husky voice.
Hendrick ignored her and pushed her other leg up to the top of the railing as another wave came up and doused both of them.
She screamed at the top of her lungs. "Okay! Okay! I give up!"
"What?" asked Hendrick in a calm voice as if he had just heard her for the first time.
"Search me!" she screamed in his ear.
Hendrick pulled her back on board with one swift, sure motion, then dragged her back to the cabin. He pushed her into the chair and waited impatiently. She shivered with the renewed chill from the seawater and began to sob.
Hendrick gave her a hard look. "You've got five seconds."
She began to unbutton her blouse. "I don't know what you think you're going to find." She got her blouse off and threw the sopping wet garment straight at his face. He tried to intercept it, but missed, the blouse hitting him full in the face and wrapping around his head. He peeled it off his head, trying not to give away his amusement and searched it thoroughly as she continued to undress.
"I knew a girl once," he began almost pleasantly. "She hid a hand grenade up her butt. Damn near killed me."
"I wish she had," mumbled Maggie as she wiggled out of her pants. She threw it at him aiming for his head again, but this time he neatly picked it out of the air. He searched her pants and threw it over in the corner with her blouse.
"I knew another girl," continued Hendrick. "She had a small handgun up her -"
"I don't want to hear it," interrupted Maggie. Maggie gave him a defiant look as she sat in her panties and bra. "Everything okay?" she asked. "No machine gun hidden up my sleeve? No hydrogen bombs in my pockets?"
"You're not done yet," he said ominously.
She gave him a look of fury and held her arms away from her body. "Where in hell am I supposed to hide a weapon now?"
"Remember the girl with the hand grenade up her butt?" asked Hendrick.
Maggie hesitated then reached behind her and pulled out a small metal object from inside her underwear. She pressed a button on its side and a blade snapped straight out from the handle. She turned the knife around in her hand and slammed it blade first into a nearby wooden tabletop.
"Little miss innocent is not so innocent after all," said Hendrick. He pulled the knife out of the table and pushed the blade back into the handle. "I'll keep this for now, if you don't mind."
Maggie sat back in the chair. "I stole it from the pirates. I thought if they tried to rape me, I'd make them pay."
Hendrick pulled the metal detector from a drawer and waved it quickly over her body. This time she didn't resist. Satisfied that she had no other weapons on her, he pulled a long robe out of a closet and tossed it to her. She quickly put it on, then slid her wet undergarments off.
He picked up her wet clothes. "Dryer down the hall."
She nodded. "Thanks."
Ten minutes later the dryer buzzer went off, and Hendrick retrieved the mysterious woman's clothes. He opened the door and tossed the clothes to her. She nodded and gave him a not-unfriendly look.
Hendrick stared at her for a long moment. She returned the stare, each sizing up the other. He then abruptly turned and went up to the bridge to find Joe Malik.
Maggie sighed with relief at being free from the pirates. She slowly put on the dry clothes, still warm from the dryer and thought over the two men who had rescued her from the sea. Neither of them had examined her with their eyes as she was used to. Men's eyes would flick up and down from her face to her toes, lingering on her flat stomach and her shapely hips, finally locking on to her breasts. These men hadn't done that even though her blouse had clung to her body like a coat of paint.
One of the men was skinny, had a beard streaked with gray, and had carried an automatic weapon in his hands. While the rifle hadn't been pointed directly at her, she felt that either one of these men wouldn't have hesitated to use it on her.
The other man was younger, about thirty, taller, broad chested, and had a few days' stubble on his face. One side of his face had small lines of blood on it. She knew he must have been wounded slightly in the gunbattle. He had acted as if he were the one in charge. Maggie decided he wasn't the best looking guy she'd ever seen. His face was angular with a sharp jaw line, pointed nose, and flat cheeks. She remembered his muscular arms and chest, and narrow waist. When he had gotten close to her, she could see the grime on him and smell a mixture of sweat, diesel fuel, and gasoline. She wondered what he would look like and smell like when he had a bath and a shave. No ring on his fingers, and no telltale white line that would betray his marital status. He might be attractive, thought Maggie, in a rough, animalistic way.
She felt grateful to him. In spite of him almost throwing me overboard, she thought. But she had to admit, his examination of her was downright gentle compared to all the gawking, probing, and poking the pirates did with her. That really made her ill.
So what's with these two? she asked herself. Fighting off pirates and rescuing damsels in distress. If they weren't so scurvy looking, they'd be heroes. She couldn't believe her luck, finally winding up on board the ship she was supposed to investigate.
Maggie Ramsey resolved to complete her mission, to find out why these two were in the Taiwan Strait.
"So, how's our blond fish?" asked Malik.
"Found this," said Hendrick, showing Malik the switchblade. His partner's eyes went wide open. "We've got to keep an eye on her. She might make the perfect spy."
The events of the day started to take its toll on Hendrick. He suddenly felt overcome by fatigue and mumbled to Malik that he was going back to his cabin to rest for a while. The day was waning, the lead gray skies and the battle with the pirates lending a gloom over their ship.
Hendrick opened the door to his cabin and flicked on a light. He pulled off his foul weather jacket, and flopped down on the bed. He closed his eyes, then heard a rustle near the doorway.
"In spite of everything, I want to thank you for saving my life," said Maggie.
Hendrick opened his eyes and saw Maggie leaning against the doorframe. She was dressed in dry clothes with her hair brushed back. Her hair was starting to dry and puff out, giving her a wind blown appearance. Her body came to mind again as he figured it would, off and on for the rest of his life.
"So the pirates really didn't rape you?" he asked.
"No, they didn't," she replied. "My stepfather is a very wealthy Japanese industrialist. He owns a helicopter company. When they found out who I was, their leader figured that my stepfather might refuse to pay a ransom if I was brutalized. So they left me alone." She laughed silently. He raised his eyebrows in a question.
"The pirate leader, Chang, tried," she said. "But he's got this problem, you see."
Hendrick smiled. "Droopy?" He held up a crooked index finger.
"The droopiest," said Maggie, and they both laughed out loud. "Maybe that was the real reason they didn't touch me. Chang couldn't stand the thought of his men having all the fun." They laughed again.
They both fell silent for a moment.
"You can stay until the Chinese Navy arrives," Hendrick pronounced formally. Her face turned sour. He looked her over, the mental picture of her nearly naked body roaring through his mind. He marveled at the self-control of the pirates. They must have thought that they could get an enormous sum for her. She definitely was not the kind of woman whom a man could easily resist.
"Where did you get the suntan?" he asked. He had noted that there was no telltale lightening of her skin as it would under a bathing suit.
Her face darkened. "They made me sunbathe in the nude. They thought if my stepfather wouldn't pay up, then they would sell me on the slave market and a full suntan would raise the price that they could get for me."
Nothing like knowing your market, thought Hendrick. The pirates didn't miss a trick. "How much do you think they could have gotten for you?" he asked, restraining a smile.
"I'm sure I don't know," she replied.
"I mean wouldn't you feel good if they got a lot, like a few hundred thousand dollars."
She screwed up her face in irritation. "They talked about a million American dollars." There was a touch of pride in her voice.
"Really. A million bucks," mused Hendrick. "Now that's interesting."
"Don't get any ideas," she said with a wry smile.
Hendrick eyed her closely. "Maybe I'd pay a million dollars."
She gave him a coy look. "Not for sale."
Hendrick closed his eyes again, and the vision of her defiantly jamming her switchblade into the table came to mind. Tall, leggy, flat stomach, nice round T and A, beautiful face, and blond, he thought. What else is there?
"So, this is obviously a salvage ship," said Maggie. "What are you guys going to salvage?"
Hendrick opened one eye and stared at her for a moment, then closed it again.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you guys were going after the Awa Maru," she said.
Hendrick tried not to react to Maggie's supposedly careless remark.
"Awa Maru?" he asked with raised eyebrows.
"Yeah. You know, that Japanese ship sunk near the end of World War Two," she replied. "Supposedly it had anywhere from three hundred million to five billion dollars worth of stuff on board."
"I've heard about it," said Hendrick carefully. He closed both eyes trying to be casual about the conversation.
"That's why the pirates were attacking you. Right?" she asked. "They talked about you handing over any recovered treasure."
"So how do you know about the Awa Maru?" asked Hendrick with one eye open again.
"I overheard the pirates talk about it," she replied.
"You know Chinese?" he asked.
"I majored in Oriental languages in college," answered Maggie. "They said that they were going to wait until you had recovered something, then take it from you. They were quite put out when you didn't just roll over and die. I guess that's not your style."
"Joe would be pissed at me if I did that," said Hendrick.
"Oh," said Maggie with a small smile. "It wouldn't do to have Joe mad at you, would it?"
"Joe is one mean son of a bitch," he replied. He opened the other eye. "What else did the pirates say?"
"Well, some of them said you were crazy because they thought that there was no treasure on the Awa Maru when it went down."
"Why would they think that?" he asked.
"The Chinese mounted a major salvage operation in the late seventies with many ships and several hundred men," said Maggie. "And they found nothing."
Hendrick stayed silent for a moment. "Then it must be obvious that we're after something else."
Maggie face lit up in a wide smile. "There is nothing else."
"Have you ever heard of anyone surveying the sea bed for mineral deposits?"
"Oh, that's what you're doing," she replied. "Right."
Hendrick tried to keep his eyes off the sonar image that was hanging up on the wall behind the door. Maggie couldn't see it from where she was standing, but if she walked into the room then turned around, it would be right in front of her. Joe had written in stark red letters, Awa Maru?
"You'd better get some sleep," he said. "You've been through a lot."
Maggie strolled slowly into the room to look out his window. She bent over and peered through the dirty glass at the storm outside while holding her blouse close to her chest to prevent him seeing any cleavage. The ship rolled and groaned, swaying with the wind and waves that pounded the vessel.
"Pretty rough weather out there," she said then turned to go. The sonar image sat directly in front of her, and she stared at it for several moments. A host of individual dots formed colored lines with the bends and interruptions in the lines showing a lump on the seabed. It certainly looked like a ship, or maybe just a piece of it. Hendrick closed his eyes and groaned inwardly.
"So, how much do you think is still down there?" she asked softly.
He was silent for a long moment. "A lot."
CHAPTER 3
Frustration
Hendrick, Malik, and two of the Taiwanese crew sat at the galley table watching Maggie Ramsey practically inhale her dinner.
"Pizza!" she shrieked with delight. She rammed a piece into her mouth.
One of the galley crew pulled another pizza out of the oven and placed it on the table in front of her. Joe Malik shoved a can toward her. "Here, have a beer," he said with a sideways look at her.
She nodded and gurgled something that substituted for a thank you, then took a long swig of the brew. She managed to swallow the whole mouthful in record time, and immediately grabbed another piece of pizza.
"Wow! This is great!" she bubbled. "Do you know how long it's been since I had pizza? Or a beer? All those pirates had was fish and rice. And some other horrible squiggly things. I didn't want to know what those were." She began to mangle the next piece of pizza, causing the Taiwanese to giggle and talk among themselves.
After Maggie downed her fourth piece of pizza, she slowed considerably and sipped the second beer given to her by Joe Malik. She looked at each of the men in turn.
"So, you guys are after the Awa Maru," she said, looking alternately at Hendrick and Malik. Joe Malik leaned back from the table and gave Hendrick an accusatory look.
"She saw the sonar image hanging up in my cabin," said Hendrick. "The one that you wrote Awa Maru on." Malik rolled his eyes and said nothing while screwing up his face in annoyance.
"Any luck yet?" she asked. She suddenly burped and bounced a little in her seat. "Oh, excuse me."
The two Taiwanese men laughed shrilly and riveted admiring looks on her. She coolly smiled at them then returned her attention to Hendrick.
"I guess that's a secret," she said. "So, what's the story behind this ship? Why did it have such valuable cargo anyway?"
"I guess there's no harm telling you about the history of the Awa Maru," began Hendrick, ignoring the deep frown from Joe Malik in his peripheral vision. "In mid 1944, the United States was concerned about Japanese treatment of Allied prisoners of war. The U.S. contacted the Japanese and offered relief supplies for the U.S. prisoners, and in return the Japanese could receive safe passage for a ship to carry Japanese citizens and supplies back to Japan. One of the ships that the Japanese selected was the Awa Maru.
"The U.S. delivered two thousand tons of Red Cross supplies to a Russian port in Siberia where the Japanese picked them up and transported them to Japan. The Awa Maru was much larger than really needed for the relief supplies, and the Japanese had it crammed full with supplies that their troops in Southeast Asia desperately needed. The Awa Maru completed its mission to deliver relief supplies to the POW camps in Southeast Asia with trips to Hong Kong, Taiwan, Saigon, and Indonesia. She left Singapore on March 28, 1945 and took a course back to Japan up the Taiwan Strait, then known as the Formosa Strait. The U.S. subs in the area were given orders to let the ship pass safely." Hendrick stopped talking long enough to pop open a beer and take a swig.
"A U.S. submarine, the Queenfish, commanded by a Commander Charles Loughlin made radar contact with the Awa Maru late on April 1, 1945 in heavy fog," continued Hendrick. "Loughlin proceeded to very nicely put four torpedoes into the side of the ship, sending it to the bottom in minutes. Loughlin thought he had just sunk a Japanese destroyer. He ordered his sub around to pick up survivors, but the Japanese in the water shoved the lines away and swam away from the sub. This was common practice in the Pacific during World War Two. The Japanese just wouldn't surrender."
"That could be interpreted as a kind of integrity," mused Maggie. Hendrick and Malik looked at her with new curiosity.
"Yeah," said Malik. "The kind of integrity that gets you killed."
Maggie shrugged and let it go. She looked at Hendrick to tell him to continue.
"The crew of the Queenfish picked up one survivor, Kantora Shimoda, who eventually told Loughlin that the ship he had sunk was the Awa Maru," continued Hendrick. "This was the one ship that he was not supposed to sink. The ship was lit up with white crosses all over to identify it, but no one on the Queenfish had even seen it due to the fog. Loughlin was immediately ordered back to port to face a court martial. Apparently Admiral Nimitz, the commander of the Pacific fleet, was very worried how the Japanese would react to the sinking of an unarmed merchant ship that was supposed to get safe passage. He thought the Japanese would retaliate by abusing Allied prisoners. Loughlin claimed he was in an impossible position because he had no way to identify the ship before the attack. If he did not attack and it really was a Japanese destroyer, he'd be court martialed for dereliction of duty. On the other hand when he did attack, he was court martialed because it wasn't the destroyer he thought it was.
"The court found Loughlin guilty of negligence, a much lesser charge than disobeying a lawful order, which theoretically could get you a firing squad during wartime. Well, Nimitz was furious with the verdict and the light sentence, but what could he do?
"Anyway, the Japanese started screaming that the U.S. was a pack of war criminals and demanded payment of over fifty million dollars for the ship and the two thousand people who were on board. The Chinese claimed that the Awa Maru was loaded with war materiel and treasures looted from China and Southeast Asia along with Japanese war criminals. Actually, intercepted Japanese messages, that have now been declassified, show that most of the people on the Awa Maru were technicians who were desperately needed for the war effort in Japan."
"How do you know the ship still has treasure in it?" asked Maggie. "The Chinese found nothing in the seventies."
"The Chinese didn't have the equipment we have today," said Hendrick.
Malik turned and pointed a finger at Maggie. "You could still be a spy for those pirates. Just because you have my partner convinced -" He jabbed a thumb toward Hendrick. "- doesn't mean you've got me convinced."
Maggie shrugged her shoulders good-naturedly and fixed an especially enchanting smile on Joe Malik.
Hours later, the storm still assaulted the ship. As Hendrick tried to get some sleep, he could hear the door open to Maggie's cabin. It had a peculiar kind of squeak, a two-tone one that was very distinctive. She staggered down the hallway of the violently rolling ship to the head where he could hear a gurgling sound followed by coughing. Hendrick smiled to himself. If she was a spy, she would do no spying tonight after staying up to drink quite a few beers too many.
The sounds recurred all through the night until Hendrick finally began to doze, the recurring dream sweeping him under as it did every night. He found himself back underwater hovering over the Han Gao with steel spears whizzing past his head. He swam deeper, feeling the pressure squeeze him, pressing the air out of his lungs. Lights flickered, blood flowed, and darkness filled the water. The face came out of the blackness, tight strings of flesh exuding evil, the Oriental eyes devoid of any emotion except hate. The face hovered, twisting and turning in the void, sending pressure waves against Hendrick's body, the blood red Japanese characters, symbol of evil curling and snapping behind the face. The mouth moved, blood flowed. Hendrick struggled to see what the face was doing. Suddenly he knew as the last of his breath was driven from him.
The face was eating.
The next day the storm had abated, causing the ship to roll only ten degrees in contrast to the forty-five degree rolls during the night.
"Taiwanese Navy," Loh said and pointed off the port bow. Hendrick centered his binoculars up on the rapidly approaching ship.
"Frigate," said Hendrick. He squinted into the glasses. "Hull number one, one, zero, five."
"The Chi Kuang," said Loh from memory. "Seventy-six millimeter gun amidships with twin forty millimeter guns on either side." Loh had been in the Taiwanese Navy for twenty years.
"We could have used all that fire power yesterday," said Hendrick bitterly. "And where the hell was the Chinese Navy? I'll be damned if I'll give half of what we recover to those bastards." The deal he had made with the Chinese government was half the treasure in return for naval and air protection against the pirates. Hendrick suspected that some corrupt official was impeding navy response to their pleas for help.
Now the Taiwanese Navy was headed straight at them, possibly responding to their distress call the day before. Hendrick had been careful to clear his salvage operation with both governments so that he wouldn't get blown out of the water. The Awa Maru was located inside the territorial waters of the People's Republic of China, but he knew the Taiwanese also closely monitored what happened in the strait.
Hendrick turned to see Joe Malik and Maggie Ramsey enter the bridge. She looked better than she had sounded the night before. Malik kept her out in front of him to keep an eye on her. Hendrick suspected that, in spite of Malik's gruff front, he was fascinated by Maggie. What man wouldn't be? he thought.
"I hope you're feeling better," said Hendrick.
She gave him a rueful look. "I didn't get sick when I was with the pirates. What was it this time? The beer?"
"Yeah, it'll do it every time," replied Hendrick. "Hope you're ready to travel."
She became puzzled. "Where?"
Hendrick pointed to the approaching Taiwanese frigate. "Our dead and wounded shipmates, and you, get to go ashore."
Her face fell. "Uh, listen guys, I'd rather not go with the Taiwanese Navy, if you don't mind."
"Why not?" asked Malik. He gave her a hard stare.
"Well, I don't have my passport," she said. "The pirates still have it."
"I'm sure when you tell them your story, the Taiwanese will understand," replied Hendrick. "They're not bad guys, really."
Maggie's manner grew desperate. She stepped closer to Hendrick and jiggled a bit in the process. "Steve, please," she said in a low voice. "I don't want to answer any of their questions right now."
The way she walked toward him and slightly shook her body was one of the most lascivious movements he had ever seen. Maggie knew how to use her most potent female weapon, her sexuality. Hendrick felt a rush through him, the mental picture of her clad only in her wet underwear roaring through his mind. It angered him. He was determined not to let her affect his judgment.
"You could tell them about the pirates. Where their base is located," he said, his voice a little hoarse.
"That's just it," she said. "I don't know where their base is. I didn't know what course they took, or what speed they were doing from any landmarks or islands. And the Taiwanese won't believe me. They'll think I'm hiding something."
Hendrick could feel himself giving in. She had given him a pretty bad excuse for not going with the authorities, but it was just good enough to be plausible. The Taiwanese could be very tenacious when trying to get information from even their friends. Without a passport she could be held for several weeks until the government made sure of her identity.
"So you want to hang around to see what we pick up," Hendrick countered.
"No, really, I'll stay in my cabin the whole time. I swear," she said earnestly. "I won't ask any more questions."
Hendrick glanced toward Malik and saw that his partner was staring at Maggie's backside. She's got Joe going too, thought Hendrick. He's no help.
"All right," said Hendrick in a firm voice. "In your cabin at all times, except to eat and poop."
"It's a deal," she breathed with relief. She put her arms around Hendrick's neck and kissed him on the cheek. The softness of her lips, even on his stubble, startled him. The rush started up again, and his knees went weak. Maggie turned and ran out of the bridge on the starboard side to keep out of sight of the approaching frigate and quickly went below.
Malik gave Hendrick a disgusted look. "Oh, brother."
"Yeah? Who was staring at her ass the whole time?" countered Hendrick.
Malik put on his most exaggerated female voice, a high squeaky tone that grated on everyone's ears. "Oh, pluhheeese, Stevie. Puuhhlleeese! I don't want to answer any questions nooowww."
"Oh, God," mumbled Hendrick. He turned to Loh with a wry smile. "You see what I have to put up with from this moron."
Loh smiled back at Hendrick then shook his head. "Americans," he said with exaggerated patience.
The Taiwanese ship pulled alongside and expertly kept station on the much smaller salvage ship. Loh stopped his engines and walked out on the port bridge wing to talk to the frigate's crew.
"C'mon, Joe. Let's help get Ko and Li ready to transport," said Hendrick. Malik nodded and followed along.
They went down to the aft deck, picked up Li's body and took it over to where the frigate crew was coming on board. The Taiwanese sailors expertly rigged up a high wire and transported Li's body across the water between the two ships. The salvage crew also sent over the body of the dead pirate. Presumably they could get some clues about the pirates' identity and maybe locate their home base. They sent Ko, the wounded sailor, over in a bos'un's chair while a Taiwanese officer got a statement from Captain Loh. The frigate's officers wanted them to return to Taipei to investigate the pirate attack, but Loh talked them out of it. Hendrick knew he would have to talk to the authorities at length about the battle when they finally went back to port, but was glad that they were allowed to stay at sea for the moment. They all sighed with relief as they saw the frigate pull away and head eastward.
"I hope they come back when the pirates show up again," said Malik. Hendrick nodded. Their savage attackers were always a half thought away.
They had strayed several miles from their search area during the pirate attack and the subsequent storm. Hendrick and Malik went to the bridge and told Loh to get them back over what they thought was the Awa Maru.
"I guess we'd better survey the damage in the meantime," said Malik.
"I'll join you," said Hendrick.
Together they went about the ship and noted the damage done to the ship and its equipment from the battle with the pirates. The squall had lessened until only a drizzle fell from the skies.
"We lost a sonar unit," said Malik. "Damn it! We only have one left." They had had the sonar unit deployed behind the ship when the pirates struck. During the course of the battle, the tow cable had been severed by a stray bullet.
Hendrick nodded in resignation. The sonar unit looked like a small torpedo about six feet long with fins near its tail. It was towed behind the ship, its side-scan sonar emitting sonar pulses that traveled out horizontally from the unit. The returns were transmitted back to the ship and sent to a personal computer, which used sophisticated software to build up an image of the sea bottom.
They had gotten some tantalizing images of a sunken ship in the weeks that they had been searching the area. Actually the sonar showed a mound of mud that could be hiding the ship they were after. Much more work had to be done before they could send down divers to recover any treasure.
"How's the MAD device?" asked Malik. He referred to a magnetic anomaly detector that was also towed behind the ship, which provided detection of underwater metallic items, such as ship's hulls as well as smaller items.
"Seems okay," muttered Hendrick as he looked it over for any bullet holes or other damage. "It'll be interesting to see what this baby gives us." They had just gotten the MAD on board recently and were aching to try it out.
They got to work taking more sonar soundings to enhance their sonar image of what they thought was the Awa Maru. After several runs across the area, they rigged the MAD instrument for towing. They then retraced their way over the area using the MAD device to detect any metallic objects. Hendrick and Malik poured over the resulting data and tried to correlate the sonar image with the MAD data.
"Okay," said Hendrick after several minutes. "We're seeing metal where we thought it to be." He pointed to two misshapen lumps on the sonar image. "But we're seeing smaller pieces, strung out in a line that leads up to the ship itself."
Malik scratched his beard. "So the ship snapped in two when it sank and left pieces of the hull strung out. It's plausible if the current was strong."
"Why didn't the Chinese find anything?" asked Hendrick.
Malik shook his head, puzzled. "Are you sure that manifest you saw was the real thing?"
Hendrick shrugged. "Yeah. I wouldn't be out here if I thought it was just somebody's wet dream." Hendrick had seen the Awa Maru's cargo list in a government office in Taipei. It had revealed a startling array of valuables from gold bars, silver pieces, jewelry, diamonds, even optical equipment. But how accurate was the manifest? Hendrick had his doubts but didn't want to convey them to his partner.
Hendrick eyed the depth on the sonar data. "Fifty-one meters down." He did a mental calculation. "Over one hundred sixty feet."
"We'll have to go through ten feet of mud before we hit anything," said Malik.
"Let's get the ROV down there to see what it's like," said Hendrick.
"Right," answered Malik and moved out the doorway to the aft deck.
Hendrick lingered, his eyes playing over the MAD detector's data and the metal that was strung out on the sea floor. He shook his head. Pieces of the ship. Too high an indication from the MAD equipment for pieces of sheet metal, thought Hendrick. What were they really?
The two of them got the remotely operated vehicle hanging over the side using the deck crane. The ROV was a short, squat device seemingly caught in a cage of thick pipe, which prevented damage to its multiple propellers if it collided with anything. The props were mounted on rotating joints so that they could be pointed in almost any direction. The highly maneuverable vehicle could wiggle its way into very tight spaces and with its cameras could reveal things about a wreck that divers would never get a chance to see.
Hendrick used the joystick in the control room to move all the control surfaces and actuate the screws while Malik watched the ROV for the correct response. Hendrick turned on the cameras and Malik proceeded to lower the ROV into the water.
Georgi Bakhtin clucked his tongue nervously as he stood in the conning center of one of Russia's newest, and quietest submarines. The captain, an old sea dog named Golubev, was listening on the sub's passive sonar in preparation for going to periscope depth. He and the rest of the crew knew that both the Taiwanese and the Chinese would get very excited if they knew a Russian submarine was patrolling the strait.
Periodically the Russians surveyed strategic waterways, looking for any obstructions, or any new military installations. They surveyed the electromagnetic spectrum for any new emitters, or any changes to the existing emitters. They catalogued radars and radio stations, ships in ports along the coast, and any other military movements. And Bakhtin had been elected as the SVR representative for the tour.
The Sluzhba Vneshnei Razvedki, or SVR, Russia's foreign intelligence agency was his employer as had been the KGB in days gone by. Bakhtin had taken tours with the Russian Navy twice before and had never liked it. The close confines of the submarine bothered him. He supposed that he was an outdoor person, even though he rarely had the time to indulge himself.
Captain Golubev gave him a quick look, his eyes framed between his iron gray eyebrows and heavy jowls, then went to wait by the periscope. Bakhtin could feel the submarine rise through the sea to sit near the surface. Golubev gave a quick order, and the thick, shiny tube next to him rose silently. He flipped the handles down and spun quickly around in a circle surveying the surface for any threats to his ship.
This was Golubev's last tour - the stocky captain would retire in the next few weeks. Bakhtin was envious. In his forties, he had thought more than once what retirement would be like. But he knew he had at least twenty years to go. Maybe more.
He walked over to stand next to Golubev. He was taller than Golubev but heavier than most of the crew with a thick, bland face, perfect for an anonymous agent. The old sea captain would let him look at the outside world once in a while out of pity for Bakhtin's discomfort. Golubev backed away slowly from the eyepiece and fixed his eyes on the SVR agent. Bakhtin eagerly peered through the eyepiece. He clucked his tongue again and received some annoyed looks from the crew and Golubev himself.
Golubev had focused on a ship that was pounding its way through the waves of the Taiwan Strait. Bakhtin increased the magnification and studied the ship. He noted with surprise that the ship seemed to be riddled with holes. Bullet holes? he asked himself excitedly. They seemed to follow a line across the superstructure as if an attacker had swung the gun barrel from side to side. Who had attacked them? The notorious pirates that terrorized the islanders in the strait? He looked at the ship and its occupants with new interest.
He redirected his attention toward the stern and saw two men lower a submarine-like device into the sea. Surveying the sea bottom? Just like us, he thought. Only they are on the surface for all to see. And we . . . he left the thought unfinished.
Hendrick kept an eye on the TV screen as the ROV descended into the depths. The visibility quickly went to zero. Hendrick turned on the ROV's powerful lights, but they were only able to penetrate the mud filled water a few meters ahead. He had been told of the tremendous amount of silt in the water, and had read that the Chinese had removed some ten thousand cubic meters of mud in their salvage effort. It's all back again, thought Hendrick disgustedly. Every damn cubic centimeter.
"Can't see shit," mumbled Hendrick. After several minutes, he looked at the depth gauge. "All right. We're at fifty-one meters." Malik leaned over his shoulder to view the TV screen.
Hendrick played the ROV back and forth over the area where they thought the ship was located, several times inadvertently driving the vehicle into the soft mud. The entire time they could barely see the front frame of the ROV. They stuck with it for two hours then gave up.
The plan had been to confirm that the lump in the mud below was actually the Awa Maru, then call for the larger diving team they had assembled in Taipei to perform the actual salvage. They knew that time was fast running out. It was mid September. The onset of heavy weather was known to be abrupt in that part of the world. Frustrated, both men walked out of the cabin to retrieve the ROV.
Bakhtin was ready. He pushed the button over and over to take pictures of the two men who worked to get the ROV back on the deck. The men looked tired. He sympathized with them. They apparently had had to fight off a formidable enemy recently.
He took a dozen pictures then noticed Golubev's burly presence next to him. Bakhtin was taking too long. The stocky captain was getting nervous, even though Bakhtin had to give up the scope every few minutes for Golubev to survey their surroundings. Bakhtin had lingered with the scene with equal parts curiosity about the ship and pleasure at seeing the outside world again. The men on the salvage ship probably weren't a bona fide intelligence target, but he might decorate his office with the pictures.
Bakhtin surrendered the periscope, his thoughts on the brave men aboard the ship. Who were they? Why were they endangering their lives?
What were they after?
It's still there!
His father's words rang through his mind as he stared at the sea not ten feet away. Hendrick struggled with the memories of his too short relationship with his father. His father had been in World War II and had been on missions that he couldn't talk about. Later on, it had come out in a conversation with his mother that his father had worked for the CIA.
"I figured you wouldn't mind if I got some air in the evening," Maggie said. He turned quickly at hearing a voice so close to him. He nodded and returned to staring at the water. "I won't ask if you've had any luck," she said. "I can see it on your face."
"Mud," he said, as if that would explain everything.
"Why is the Awa Maru so important to you?" she asked.
He smiled ruefully. "Because it's still there."
"What's still there?" she asked. "The ship itself?"
He shook his head. "No. I don't know. Something onboard." He turned to face her. "My father kept talking on and on about something he had in his hands when he was on the Awa Maru. It was something very important, something worth risking his life and the lives of several other agents."
"Agents? Your father was a spy?" she asked.
He nodded. "He belonged to the OSS, Office of Strategic Services, the forerunner of the CIA."
Maggie's eyes went wide open. "And he was on the Awa Maru?"
"Yeah, the night it was torpedoed," he replied.
"Why was he there?" she asked, now thoroughly intrigued.
Hendrick shook his head. "Don't know. We never found out."
"He never told you," she said, disappointed.
"He never talked about what he did during World War Two," said Hendrick. Or what he did afterwards, he thought. They were both silent for a moment.
"He only started to speak about it when the Alzheimer's got a good grip on him," he said. "And then we only got disjointed fragments of what went on onboard the Awa Maru." His father's voice ran through his mind. I had it! I had it in my hands! "Most of the time he didn't recognize me."
"How old were you then?" asked Maggie in a voice quiet with sympathy.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe twelve or thirteen," he said.
"Your father wasn't there when you were growing up. How did that make you feel?" she asked.
Hendrick didn't reply to the closely personal question. He had desperately wanted to help his father, somehow make the ravages of his mind cease for a week, a day, a minute. But there was no help to be given, no way to bring the elder Hendrick back into reality. His mother would whisper, "He's back in the war, and there's no bringing him out of it."
Then he had gotten angry at his father. Why do I have to get saddled with a retard for an old man? he would ask himself. Other kids respected their fathers, but how could he respect someone who drooled and babbled on and on that he had had it in his hands and let it get away. What was it? Why was it so important? Why was he obsessed about that and not his own family?
Then there was that one unholy afternoon when his father wandered off and his mother went after him. He shoved the thought away. In later years as he grew up, Steve Hendrick realized that he had been unfair to his father and felt guilty at how he had felt toward him.
Hendrick suddenly realized that he had been revealing to Maggie a side of him that almost no one knew. Only Malik knew the whole story, and his brother, Frank, who could never tell anyone anything again. He resisted answering Maggie's question, not wanting to have her glimpse his inner feelings.
Maggie waited for him to answer, then gave up and stunned him with her next remark. "So you want to complete your father's mission."
His eyes flicked up to her face, searching for how she knew what was still buried deep inside him. Only Frank, and later Joe Malik, knew he had rashly proposed just that when he was eighteen years old. Frank had immediately scoffed as older brothers do, but the idea had taken hold of their imaginations and wouldn't let go. Without realizing it, the brothers had, over the years, gravitated toward the day when they would enter the Awa Maru and discover what had so obsessed their father. Now Frank will never be there with me, he thought. That is, if I ever make it to the Awa Maru myself.
"My father's mission ended over sixty-five years ago," said Hendrick.
"The gold then?" she asked.
"Yeah, there's always the gold," he replied.
Maggie was silent for a moment. "What do you think it could be?"
He shook his head. "We'll probably never know." He looked toward the horizon at the dark clouds that were rapidly approaching.
"You've been going after the Awa Maru for quite a while," she said.
"Whenever we can scrape up the money."
"It must take quite a bit to mount a salvage operation like this," said Maggie.
"I saved some money from the jobs I had as an electrical engineer, and we got some funding from salvaging other wrecks and from relatives. Now I do this full time."
"You good at it?" she asked.
"I'm no Robert Ballard," he said, referring to the leader of the search for the Titanic.
"Modest too," she said, smiling. "So how did you meet Joe Malik?"
"Joe and I met when we were in the navy. Joe is one of those guys who's always kicking around the sea, fascinated by the power of it, and by the mystery of long forgotten ships. I guess that's why he left the navy - too much shore duty. I was only going to stay in for a few years and I knew it, so it was no big deal when I left. I guess I infected him with my obsession with the Awa Maru." He gazed into the water. "The Awa Maru represents a kind of Holy Grail to us. It's supposedly the largest hidden treasure in the world. Joe and I have been building up to this salvage mission for about five years now."
She gave him a sideways glance. "You two don't look like you go together. You're like the odd couple."
Hendrick laughed. "Yeah, so who's the sloppy one?"
"Well, I don't know," she said. "You both haven't shaved in days."
Hendrick rubbed his stubble. "Last thing on my mind." Hendrick grew thoughtful. "The poor bastard saved my life once, and now he thinks he has to stick with me to do it again if need be."
Maggie's eyes went wide open. "How did he save your life?"
Hendrick shook his head and grew serious at the memory. "I was over a hundred feet down, surveying a site, not too far from here where we thought the Awa Maru had gone down. Instead we found an old scow called the Han Gao." He stopped. A cloud passed over his face.
Maggie sensed that this was a memory he struggled with. "Bad dive?" Her eyes looked over the long scar on his right forearm.
Hendrick reeled with the memory of that fateful battle. The flickering light, the dark blood in the water flooded his consciousness. And then there was the face. Always the face. He began to talk quickly in a futile attempt to change the memory.
"Some guys thought that it was their wreck, and I got into a fight with them," answered Hendrick. "When I didn't come up in time, Joe came down ..." His voice trailed off. The memory of the previous night's dream swept through his mind, but he fought it. After five years I should be able to keep it away, he thought. It was the face that unnerved him, always that face.
Maggie was intrigued by the adventure. She suspected that he had just told her the heavily abridged version.
He smiled again then turned serious. "You never told me how Chang got a hold of you." He was anxious for a change in subject.
Emotion filled her face. She became serious and sad. "I had some business in Taipei, so rather than fly there, I decided to take a cruise from Tokyo to Taiwan. Some British and Americans were going that way on a schooner, and I hired on board as a crewmember. I didn't know anything about sailing, but they said they'd teach me. Imagine ten guys and me, the only woman on board." She lightened up a bit. Hendrick nodded.
"They were real nice," she said. "Everything was perfect until a storm came up and wrecked the ship. Knocked the masts down, and the ship capsized when it lost its centerboard. We floated about for two days until Chang showed up." Tears filled her eyes. She stopped talking.
"Let me guess," said Hendrick in a voice filled with compassion. "They kept you and murdered the rest."
Maggie nodded quickly and turned her head away.
The wind began to pick up, driving the waves to new heights and rocking the salvage craft with increasing energy.
"Another storm," she said, sounding thankful for the distraction.
Hendrick gave her a brief smile. "We had better get in before we get soaked." Seconds later, they felt some wind-driven drops of rain begin to pelt them with considerable force.
They headed for the ship's superstructure and were halfway there when the wall of rain hit. Hendrick grabbed Maggie by the arm and dragged her toward the doorway. He flung the door open, and the two of them rushed inside. He turned his back to the bulkhead to break his momentum. Maggie tumbled in after him and tried to stop, but skidded on the wet deck and slid into Hendrick's arms. She looked up in surprise and found her face an inch from Hendrick's.
She lingered there for a second, taking in his sharp features and thin lips, and deciding that he had sex appeal, in a rough, animalistic way, even when he wasn't smiling. Maggie brought her hands up, over his powerful chest under his shirt and pushed away slowly. He held her for a moment resisting her movement, then relaxed his hold on her and let her move away. On impulse, he roughly pulled her back to him, looked at her for a second, then pressed his lips to hers. She gave no resistance and sank surprised into his arms. Their lips swam together, and he could feel his excitement build explosively as she slid her body against his.
She suddenly pushed away, this time far enough to break his hold on her. Breathless, she stared at him for a few seconds, really seeing him for the first time. Maggie mumbled that she would go back to her cabin and walked down the passageway and around the corner. Did she want him to follow her?
Hendrick's eyes followed Maggie as she rounded the corner. The feeling of her lips on his and her body next to him lingered and sent his blood pounding. She's one of the most exciting women I've ever met, he thought. Hendrick heard the double squeak of the hinges on her door and knew Maggie had gone inside her room. He hurried around the corner, his mind in a fever, thinking about Maggie alone in her stateroom. Joe Malik entered the hallway from the opposite end and stopped when he saw Hendrick walking toward him.
"Loh wants to talk to you on the bridge," Malik said.
Hendrick gave him a look of irritation. "It can wait."
Malik gave him a puzzled look then glanced at Maggie's door. He raised his eyebrows. "Yes, I'm sure it can."
Hendrick exhaled in disgust and walked past him on his way to the bridge.
The door to Maggie's room suddenly opened. She started to say something but quickly stopped when she saw Joe Malik. He gave her a sarcastically sweet smile.
"Good evening, m'lady. I trust your accommodations are to your liking?" he asked.
"You make it pretty clear when you don't like someone," said Maggie with a twist to her mouth. She turned to go back inside her cabin, then hesitated. "Hendrick must really love his father."
Malik raised one eyebrow and gave her a quizzical look. He grunted to himself. "He used to hate his father."
"Yes, the Alzheimer's, I know," replied Maggie. "He must have felt guilty at hating his father during his teenage years."
Malik stared at her for a long moment then turned to go.
Maggie frowned. "There's something else, isn't there?"
Malik looked back over his shoulder. He hesitated, then gave in. "Yeah, there's something else. Steve was sixteen or seventeen when his father wandered off alone, and by the time his mother got home, he was nowhere in sight. She got back in the car and raced off in a panic to find him." Malik's voice lowered to a hush. "Steve's mother had a stroke and wrapped the car around a tree. They lived in the country, and the police only found her body two days later."
Maggie winced and covered her mouth in sympathy.
"Steve's father was found by a concerned couple, and he was all right," said Malik. "He had a bunch of sticks in his pockets and had rubbed his hands raw over the ends of the sticks. Weird. He's in a nursing home now. Steve hated his father for causing his mother's death, but later as he grew up he realized that he was too hard on his dad."
"Steve's driven to help his father," mused Maggie. "That's why he wants to complete his father's mission. To make up for the hatred he felt for him."
"Some men would hate themselves and turn to drink or drugs. Steve wanted to do something for his father and turned to the Awa Maru," said Malik. "If he knew I told you all this, he'd probably keel haul me." Maggie was engaging, and her natural beauty began to intoxicate Malik. The harsh words he had used on her previously were his defense against her captivating personality. But his defenses were down now, and he felt himself telling her things that he had held close to himself in the past.
"Steve really doesn't trust women, does he?" she asked.
"Not much. He fell head over heels for a woman once, and for a while it looked like they were going to get married," said Malik.
"What happened?"
"She found out that Steve's father had Alzheimer's, and the thought of taking care of Steve if he got the same condition was too much for her," said Malik. "So she dumped him pretty fast."
"Steve does come across as invincible. It would be hard to imagine him with Alzheimer's," said Maggie. She had another thought. "Did you really save Hendrick's life?"
"He told you about that too?" asked Malik.
"Yes," she replied.
Malik stared at the deck for a moment. "Yeah, I saved his life." He turned to go, making up his mind to tell nothing more.
"Joe, what really happened?" she asked. Malik stopped and hesitated. He gave Maggie an intense look over his shoulder and relented.
"Five guys tried to kill him and his brother," he said finally. "Close by, between here and an island called Tung-yin Tao."
"Brother?" Maggie said, puzzled.
"So, he didn't tell you about his brother," said Malik. He rubbed his grizzled face and gave Maggie a grim look. "His brother, Frank, took a spear in the gut, but he was still alive. Steve got two of them, then tried to fight off the rest with just a knife. Somebody cut Frank's throat. Then sharks showed up." He shook his head in sympathy and admiration. Maggie's mouth fell open.
"The inside of that ship must have been a real hell hole," continued Malik. "The sharks ripped up the bad guys pretty good." His voice went to a whisper. "And Steve tried to fight off both them and the sharks with only a knife. The lights went out. He was alone in the dark."
Maggie swallowed hard, the vision of a shark attack in complete darkness leaving her weak. "What happened to his brother?" she finally managed.
Malik's gaze fell. His mouth worked a bit without speaking, as if he had to practice saying the words. His words came in a rush.
"The sharks ate him."
For the next four days Hendrick and Malik waited for the bad weather to clear so they could get in at least one dive on the wreck they had found, but it was to no avail.
"I guess we're done 'till spring," said Malik as they sat in the galley looking out at the raging weather. His partner said nothing and stared straight ahead. "That's when the next transitional month comes along," explained Malik. "You know, between the northeast and southwest monsoon seasons."
"Yeah, I know," said Hendrick. He got up suddenly and went to his room. The salvage operation was halted until they would get some reasonable weather in the spring. At least they had a probable location on the Awa Maru. And what were those smaller pieces of metal that were strung out on the ocean floor?
Hendrick crawled into bed and closed his eyes. With the recovery of the treasure a bust for now, his thoughts wandered to what had been just below the surface of his mind for the last four days, Maggie. He realized he didn't know much about her, and decided that she was probably a spy for the pirates. At least he wasn't going to be the only one disappointed about their progress. God, she's attractive, he thought.
He smiled to himself and began to doze off, his mind a jumble of thoughts of water, fish, mud, treasure chests, and Maggie's chest. Hendrick dozed.
He was awakened suddenly, not by something he heard but by the silence that filled the ship. The engines had stopped. The ship was wallowing in the swells. He quickly heaved himself upright.
The door slammed open. A bright light blinded him. Hendrick shielded his eyes and gasped with surprise.
A man in black fatigues was standing in the doorway pointing an assault rifle at him, his face covered with a black scarf.
On his chest were the dripping blood red lines of two Japanese characters, lines that had been driven into his mind five years before. Hendrick had discovered what the characters meant since the undersea battle that had cost his brother's life. It was the word for truth.
Truth written in blood.
CHAPTER 4
Shadow Man
Hendrick grunted in pain as one of the ship's invaders shoved him through the door to the bridge with the point of his automatic weapon. The bridge was lit by the garish lights from their captors and by two spotlights from a ship near the port side. The few emergency lights, which went on when the salvage ship's generators failed, cast only a red glow in the corners of the bridge.
Hendrick looked about quickly. Captain Loh and most of his crew were there, but Maggie and Joe Malik were notably absent. He hoped their absence wasn't because they resisted. Maggie wouldn't fight against overwhelming odds, but he wasn't so sure about Malik.
Seconds later two guards threw a thin, grizzled form through the doorway. Malik slipped and fell, twisting his knee. Hendrick gave him a hand up.
"You okay?" asked Hendrick in a hushed voice.
Malik grumbled an okay. "Who the hell are these guys?" he asked in a louder voice than his partner had used. He looked over the men pointing assault rifles at them.
"The same guys who killed Frank," replied Hendrick. He turned to Loh who stood glowering with hatred at the intruders. "What happened?" asked Hendrick.
Loh shook his head imperceptibly. "They pulled alongside. At first I thought they were Taiwanese Navy, but something didn't look right. I expected gunfire, but nothing happened for a minute. I was about to sound the alarm, but then all the systems on the ship died at once. Lights, navigation, engines, everything."
"Check out the characters they have on the front of their uniforms. Have you seen that before? Any idea who these guys are?" asked Hendrick.
Loh shook his head. "They're Japanese. That's all I know."
"So they're not Chang's men," said Malik. Their captors were all uniformed in black in contrast to the green and brown fatigues and multicolored bandanas that the pirates wore.
"We might wind up the same as if they were Chang's pirates," replied Hendrick. "They didn't hesitate to cut my brother's throat." Rage boiled up in him but he fought it, trying to stay calm and assess the situation. The ship alongside had tied the salvage boat to it to keep it steady in the sea's high swells, remnants of the recent storm.
"Where is she?" he asked in a whisper, just barely audible above the wind and rain. Malik lifted his shoulders an eighth of an inch and dropped them, just enough to say he didn't know.
He tried to console himself by thinking that Maggie had handled herself well with some of the most brutal criminals in the world. Noise welled up from below decks. Banging sounds mixed with the rending of wood and metal to give the impression of a quick, but thorough dismantling of the ship.
"They're searching the ship," whispered Loh.
"Nothing's changed. They still got treasure fever," muttered Malik.
"Any weapons still left up here?" Hendrick asked Loh.
"No, they took the five AK47s I had stored up here," replied Loh.
Hendrick studied their guards for the first time. There were five of them in a semicircle all with M16s pointed at Hendrick, Malik, Loh and the others. They were grim and determined, watching their captives intently. The crimson characters on their chests seemed to glow in the shadows reminding him of the battle five years ago.
The noises below decks stopped after ten minutes. Soon a tall, thin man entered the bridge. By his bearing Hendrick knew he was in charge. The thin Japanese man's eyes looked the captives over briefly, but his eyes lingered on Hendrick. The man's face was hidden in shadow.
Hendrick returned the stare, trying to look deep within the darkness to determine the man's character, divine his purpose. The shadows from the edges of the bridge windows slid up and down the thin man's form as the ship pitched and rolled in the weather. The effect created a surrealistic atmosphere of power and evil. Chang, the pirate, seemed a buffoon next to the dark intruder. This man was no mere pirate. His drive was for more than just money. Much more.
"You have not found it yet," said the man in near perfect English. He had a deep resonant voice, which had a distinctly unnerving effect on Hendrick. Hendrick tried not to let it show.
"Depends on what it is," replied Hendrick.
The shadow slid down, partially lighting his captor, but the man's face was covered with a silk scarf.
"We have met once before," said the tall Japanese. "We both thought we were diving on the Awa Maru, but it turned out to be a different wreck. Now you have found the actual location of the Awa Maru and will recover the treasure presently."
"You're sure about that, are you?" asked Hendrick.
The man's outline suggested annoyance. He had complete control of Hendrick and the others, and he knew it. That knowledge gave him increased patience.
"I also seek the same treasure, but I suspect for a much loftier purpose," he said, his attention never leaving Hendrick.
"And what might that be?" asked Hendrick. He strained to get a glimpse of his face. Is he the one? The one who murdered Frank? He shook the thought off and struggled to understand the predicament they were in. The only hopeful aspect of the situation was that their chief captor wanted to talk. The man in the shadows remained silent for a time. Hendrick could imagine him staring with unblinking eyes.
"I hesitate to admit it, but you intrigue me," said the man in a low voice. "Your continuing battles with Chang are a source of inspiration to all of us. But you cannot resist us for very long."
"Us?" asked Hendrick. "So Chang works for you."
The man became very still, and Hendrick sensed he was annoyed with himself for letting the alliance slip.
"So why don't you get the treasure yourself?" asked Hendrick.
"Mounting a diving operation presents certain ... problems," replied the man in the shadows. "It's much simpler to take it from you."
"Yes, I understand. You'd have to come out from under that rock to salvage the Awa Maru," said Hendrick. "And a lot of people would take a pot shot at you, wouldn't they?"
Shadow man's silence was unnerving. Hendrick could sense that he had pushed his adversary to the edge of anger.
"Let me introduce myself. Dinkelmeyer, Herbie Dinkelmeyer," said Hendrick to keep a light tone. He gestured toward Joe Malik. "This here is Sam Smurd, and " - he jerked his thumb at Loh --"this is Captain Queeg." He could see Malik restrain a smile. "And your name is ..." he added expectantly.
The lines around the shadow man's face softened slightly as an iceberg would at a tenth of a degree above freezing. "Humor, Mr. Hendrick? In a hopeless situation like this?"
"Maybe it's tougher to kill a man who's humorous," replied Hendrick. So he knows my name, he thought.
"Kill?" Shadow man seemed genuinely surprised. "Oh, I'm not going to kill you, Hendrick."
It was Hendrick's turn to be surprised. He raised his eyebrows in hope. "Five years ago you tried to murder us all, now you're letting us go?
"Yes, a change of tactics. I see in your eyes a disease ... an addiction rather," replied the tall, thin man. "Treasure fever has you, and a little thing like a few pirates, or the appearance of me and my men will not stop you."
Hendrick exhaled in disbelief.
"You will have your treasure," said the man with certainty. "And I will be there to take it from you. It is only then that I will kill all of you."
Hendrick's blood ran cold. The menace in the man's voice was driven home by his group's known ruthlessness.
The tall, thin man turned on his heel and was gone. His men peeled off one by one, taking their bright lights with them, leaving Hendrick and the others in the soft glow of the red emergency lights. Hendrick went over to the side window and tried to pierce the blinding glare of the spotlights on the other boat. He could just make out a large parabolic antenna mounted atop the other boat's superstructure. The boat bore no markings of any kind and seemed darker than night. The intruders walked quickly to the weather deck, and Hendrick saw with relief that Maggie wasn't with them. They swiftly climbed over to their boat, cast off, and pulled away into the night.
"EMP," said Hendrick as he dropped the toolbox in front of the electrical generators. "Electromagnetic pulse. Our Japanese friends must have used an EMP weapon to disable all the electronics on the ship. An EMP weapon sends out a powerful electromagnetic field, which radiates into the wiring and anything metal. It creates a huge electrical pulse that travels along the wires and blows out all the electronics on the ship. Pretty easy to catch up to us. Not that this tub could run away from even a sea turtle."
"Pretty slick," muttered Malik. "Man, I can't believe the cockroaches we run into out here."
"And how much treasure are we going after?" asked Hendrick facetiously.
"Yeah, you got a point," agreed Malik. He gave his partner a close look. "So how are we going to get the treasure without getting killed by these guys?" Hendrick gave him a short shake of his head.
"You think that guy was one of the ones who attacked us five years ago?" asked Hendrick.
"Impossible to tell, but I thought they were all killed. By the time I got to you, there was just body parts left. One of them could have gotten away. Couldn't see his face, but I'll remember that voice," replied Malik. "Not too many Asians have a voice that deep."
Hendrick nodded, the confrontation with the same group that killed his brother still on his mind. "Our man in the shadows is pulling the strings on the pirates too. Does he control everything around here?" Malik shook his head.
They got to work repairing the generator, pulling out the generator control electronics and quickly replacing it with the one spare they had on board. The spare had been stored in a metal box and was thus protected from the EMP. Malik pushed the start button, praying that the batteries had enough charge left to start the motor-generator set.
The motor rumbled into life, and the lights, starting out as a dim glow, burst into normal brilliance.
"Well, at least we have lights," said Hendrick as he shifted his weight quickly to compensate for the rolling of the ship. Hendrick started to go up a ladder to the next deck, then stopped. "Where the hell is she?" he asked Malik over his shoulder.
"Don't know," answered Malik. "I took a quick look through the ship just after our welcoming committee left and didn't see her."
Hendrick and Malik repeated their repairs on one of the engines and Loh got it started immediately. He quickly got the ship headed into the waves, and the rolling swiftly stabilized.
"One engine and one generator," said Malik, shaking his head.
"And no spares," replied Hendrick. And with a large dose of luck we'll be able to limp back to Taipei, he thought.
Overwhelmed by exhaustion, Hendrick walked back to his room. To his surprise, Maggie walked toward him down the corridor adjoining their rooms. She was totally soaked, her tennis shoes slipping on the wet deck. Hendrick just gaped at her in relief. She hadn't been far from his thoughts.
Maggie gave him a disgusted look and silently went into her cabin, closing the door firmly behind her.
Hendrick leaned against the bulkhead, the smile on his face growing until he laughed out loud. Maggie had hid in the one place the intruders hadn't looked: the sea. She had probably hung from a line off the stern, he thought with amazement. He shook his head in admiration and went into his room, flopping wearily down on his bed. He also realized with surprise that last night he had forgotten about the hard face of the man who had murdered Frank. The image of that face had haunted him almost every night since that disastrous incident five years ago. Maggie had been on his mind last night. But now he had come face to face with the people who had killed his brother.
His mind refused to quiet down until the small hours of the morning as he wrestled with the problem of avoiding the Japanese intruders as well as the pirates that patrolled the strait.
"Submarine," he said out loud, then fell quickly into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER 5
The Secret
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
"Rent a submarine?" asked the Russian admiral with his eyebrows raised.
Hendrick shifted his weight nervously and thought that his chances of pulling this deal off were pretty slim.
"Of course we would have to take the rockets with the nuclear warheads off first." The admiral continued with a laugh. "Or will you want to rent them as well?" He finished on the verge of a huge guffaw.
"Unarmed, of course, along with a crew," replied Hendrick with a smile. "One of your old diesel boats. The ones you're scrapping or selling to other countries."
Admiral Oleg Danielevich Topov leaned back in his chair behind the huge desk as the grin slowly left his face. Hendrick became hopeful as the admiral became thoughtful.
"And what would you do with this submarine?" asked the admiral.
Hendrick was ready for the question and unrolled a large chart of the Taiwan Strait. He stabbed a finger in the middle of the strait.
"There are many sunken ships in this area with valuable cargoes," he began. "Some we know where to look." He pointed to several large Xs scrawled on the map. "And there are many others there whose locations are only generally known."
Admiral Topov pressed Hendrick for details, and the American supplied a list of sunken vessels and their cargoes. Topov cursorily looked them over then threw the list on his desk.
"Why use a submarine?" Topov asked.
"There are only one or two months of good weather a year in the Taiwan Strait," replied Hendrick. "With a sub, the weather is wet all year round." He tried a smile, but the old admiral just stared back at him.
Topov picked up the list again and looked it over with little more attention than the first time. "All of this junk adds up to only about a hundred thousand dollars. You'll lose money. It will cost you a lot more than that to rent a submarine, even if you could get the permission."
"How much would it cost to rent a sub?" asked Hendrick.
Topov gave him a toothy grin. "How much have you got?"
Hendrick couldn't resist a smile. "I'm not very good at negotiation, Admiral. Why don't I go to the maximum I can offer, and we'll see whether it's good enough."
Topov pursed his lips and nodded. "Let us speak of American dollars. The Russian ruble is not what it once was."
Hendrick nodded. The ruble was being constantly devalued as massive inflation gripped Russia.
"Three hundred fifty thousand dollars," said Hendrick in a level voice. He watched Topov's reaction closely.
The admiral blinked his eyes a few times. "Perhaps," he replied in a practiced, noncommittal voice, which Hendrick suspected was put on for the occasion.
Times were tough in old Russia. Cold, hard cash was difficult to come by. The Russian government could make some easy money, and Hendrick knew it was tempting to the admiral to take him up on the offer.
The admiral looked back toward the chart that was spread out before him, and he studied the Xs strung out along the Taiwan Strait.
"If you take a sub into those waters, the Chinese and the Taiwanese will get pretty upset," said Topov.
"My partner has already initiated discussions with both governments, and they are agreeable to a salvage operation," replied Hendrick. He was lying and hoped the admiral wouldn't sense it. "We'll have to pay them a percentage."
"Of course, that is the reason for using a submarine, is it not?" continued Topov.
This rugged, old admiral had hit the nail on the head. Hendrick would try to sneak the sub into the strait in order to cut both the Chinese and Taiwanese out of any percentage of the recovered treasure, as well as avoid the pirates and the other mysterious Japanese who wanted the treasure. Admiral Topov had figured it out in only a few minutes of conversation.
Topov studied him for a moment, then his eyes went back to the chart.
"Are you doing any salvage in this area?" he asked as he carelessly pointed to the area east of Niushan Dao, an island near the coast of China.
Hendrick exhaled in disgust. Topov had pointed to the exact location of the Awa Maru. Did he read minds? Hendrick pretended to be surprised and interested, but he knew it was a lousy act.
"Why would I want to look there?" asked Hendrick.
Topov leveled his piercing, gray eyes on the American. "If you are going after the Awa Maru, then you're wasting your time. The Chinese got there first and found nothing."
"Awa Maru? What's that?" replied Hendrick with the ghost of a smile.
Topov's jaws clenched together such that his cheek bulged slightly while he gave Hendrick a withering stare. The admiral's jaw relaxed after a moment, then he shrugged.
"You are wasting your money, but if you want to waste it here -" He shrugged again.
"So, how much?" asked Hendrick.
"Perhaps if it were a half million American dollars," said Topov in a thoughtful tone. "Arrangements could proceed much more quickly."
That amount of money was more than he had just offered, fifty percent more, but it was well under his total budget of over a million dollars.
"Perhaps that can be arranged," said Hendrick. "Oh, and will you be charging a fee for your services? We would entertain a reasonable amount." He acted as innocent as a newborn.
Topov's eyes locked onto him and wouldn't let go.
"I'll let you know," he replied in a low voice.
SVR HEADQUARTERS, YASENEVO
Georgi Bakhtin settled into his high backed chair in his office within the half moon shaped building located on Moscow Ring Road, which contained the descendents of the KGB's First Directorate, Russia's Foreign Intelligence Service.
Bakhtin let out a sigh of relief at being back behind a desk. The tour he had taken in the submarine of the Taiwan Strait had left him out of sorts. He suspected that he had a touch of claustrophobia. He looked at the pile of folders to the right of his desk with the expectation of getting back into the routine of a nameless bureaucrat in the service of Russia, a routine he would now enjoy.
He picked up one of the folders, opened it and began reading. The Ministry of Security, which was responsible for Russia's internal security, was requesting any information on a man who was attempting to do business with the government. Bakhtin quickly thumbed through the folder and noted with disgust that no photo was present. Surely the Ministry had taken a picture of him somewhere. Just a name meant nothing.
Bakhtin gave into his one bad habit and clucked his tongue, then went back to the beginning to read more detail and saw that the navy had initiated the request. He read on and his mouth dropped open with surprise. The subject, an American, was trying to rent a submarine and a crew! Bakhtin tilted back his head and laughed out loud. These Americans! Anything they can think up, they want to do.
He read through Admiral Topov's initial assessment of the interview with the audacious American and kept smiling through it all. So, he was after sunken treasure! Bakhtin shook his head in disbelief. Russia was completely absorbed with its terrible internal problems, its population working ever harder and receiving less for it, while these Americans have the time to go after sunken treasure. No wonder we lost the Cold War, he thought. Topov had given a favorable recommendation to the request and stated that he would designate a submarine that was soon to be scrapped anyway. Russia might as well make some American cash on the boat before it became scrap iron.
Topov's assessment brought to mind the hapless, bullet-riddled salvage ship he had photographed in the Taiwan Strait. He smiled at the memory of the bedraggled people on the ship as he looked once again at the picture he had pinned to his wall. Maybe they were Americans seeking treasure as well.
Topov stated in his report that the Americans wanted to go after a Japanese vessel sunk at the end of the Great Patriotic War, called the Awa Maru. Bakhtin had never heard of it, but thought he should get some background on it for the assessment he would have to write on this most unusual request. He stood and went to the door of his office.
"Kiselev, come in here," he ordered his assistant. The man immediately complied. Bakhtin gave him the folder. "Find out all you can about this sunken ship Awa Maru. And see if we have a picture of this man -" He squinted at the American's name. "- Stephen Hendrick."
Joe Malik gave Hendrick a sideways look and mentally shrugged. He knew something was bothering him. And it was the usual thing, that damned business over the Han Gao when his brother was killed. This salvage operation for the Awa Maru had cost him greatly, yet he drove himself on.
Hendrick had been staring out the dingy window for an abnormally long time at a decidedly unappealing view of the city. Garbage from this hotel and it seemed a lot of other places had congregated in a large area below their window. Malik was grateful that the one lousy window in their cheap room was painted shut.
Joe Malik had never liked officers when he was in the U.S. Navy. They all seemed to have an aloofness born of ignorance of how the navy really worked. Hendrick had been different from the start. He wanted to learn everything so he could perform his job better. There had been too few officers like that. However he was distant from the men, and they began to resent him for it. Until that one night in a Manila bar.
Even though the Subic Bay Naval Base was closed years ago, Manila, the capital of the Philippines was still a port of call for ships of the U.S. Navy. Malik had entered a particularly loud bar, thinking that some of his men were in there. He walked into a confrontation between knife wielding locals and three drunk sailors. Malik had tried to talk his way out of the situation, but the Filipinos were having none of it.
The Filipinos charged the sailors, and the sailors responded by throwing chairs and bottles. The battle raged with the sailors getting sliced in several places by the razor sharp knives. Blood stained the floor, and the exit looked to be a thousand miles away.
Suddenly a baseball bat thudded into the back of one Filipino's head. He went down in a heap on the floor. A big American swung the bat in a frenzy, knocking knives out of their hands, splitting their ranks with grunts of agony. Malik gaped at the man with the bat. Lieutenant Hendrick cleared a path to the door, guiding the wounded men out and covering their retreat.
The word got around on the ship, and Hendrick was suddenly the most liked officer aboard. Malik took a chance letting himself get to know him, liking the young lieutenant to the point of hanging around with him after hours, an unlikely event if ever there was one. Chief petty officers just did not socialize with officers, especially the young ones who were usually the most ignorant and arrogant of all.
They had gone diving on their own time, finding that they had a common passion. Both of them opted out of the navy rather than reenlist so they could pursue diving on old wrecks. They had seduced Steve's brother, Frank, into their business and the trio were sure they would make a fortune salvaging the world's sunken ships.
The Awa Maru was always lurking in the back of Hendrick's mind, his obsession with his father's abortive mission slowly revealing itself. Malik wanted to help Hendrick with his obsession, but if it wasn't for the treasure, he wasn't sure he would have tried the salvage. What were the chances that Hendrick would find what his father had sought over sixty years ago? The sea would have obliterated whatever it was long ago. Even so they went after the Awa Maru with high expectations.
Then tragedy struck, and Frank was gone. The two of them recovered from the loss and doggedly went after various sunken wrecks. They increased in proficiency until Hendrick suggested that it was time they went after the Awa Maru once again.
Malik objected, but his partner just would not take no for an answer. He came up with answers to surmount all obstacles, even bloodthirsty pirates and Mother Nature herself. Malik and Hendrick had planned boldly, Hendrick with verve and daring, mixing in his technical skills acquired in college - he had an electrical engineering degree - and Malik providing the down-to-earth practical contributions that ex-navy chiefs are known for.
"So, when is Stashinsky supposed to get back to you?" asked Hendrick without turning around. His question was desultory. He didn't really care what the answer was.
"Later on this week," replied Malik. Stashinsky was a Russian entrepreneur who specialized in work crews with unusual specialties. When asked to recruit a sub crew, he grew very excited, declaring that it would be no problem at all. The end of the Cold War had left many ex-submariners without jobs. Hendrick and Malik wondered what kind of crew they would eventually receive.
Everything seemed to be proceeding smoothly, at least as smoothly as anything ever did in Moscow these days. They both knew they would be investigated so they kept as visible as possible. They didn't want to give the Ministry of Security any mysteries to solve about them.
"How much will we have to pay Topov?" asked Malik.
Hendrick shrugged, then turned and looked listlessly at his partner. "Fifty grand ought to do it."
Malik scratched his head and wondered how he would get his partner to talk about what was bothering him. He knew better than to confront Hendrick directly. Hendrick would never admit that anything was wrong. He'd have to finesse him.
"How's your father doing?" asked Malik.
"Who? Oh, Dad," replied Hendrick. He thought for a moment, giving Malik the impression that he was bringing his mind back from some distant land. "Same as always. He just stares out the window mumbling about the war. I told him years ago about Frank's death, but he didn't know who Frank was."
Well, that wasn't it, thought Malik with surprise. So, it's something else other than his father and Frank's death. He waited for a while before springing the next possibility on his friend. They discussed the impending operations in the Taiwan Strait, which they had been talking about for the last month. Hendrick fell silent after a while, and Malik thought that there was no better time.
"Maggie really got to you, didn't she," said Malik.
Hendrick's head shot up to give him an amazed look.
Bingo, thought Malik.
SVR HEADQUARTERS, YASENEVO
Georgi Bakhtin stared at the note in the file with surprise. It ordered him to give a status report on the submarine deal with the American, Hendrick, to the head of the SVR, Alexei Koroayev. The memo was addressed to all case officers in the now defunct KGB. He glanced at the date on the top and noted that it was September of 1956. Basically it ordered all KGB members to confer with the KGB chief on all matters concerning the sunken Japanese freighter, Awa Maru. The order was updated in 1965 and again in 1992 with the KGB head's name replaced with Alexei Koroayev.
"Why the Awa Maru?" asked Bakhtin out loud.
Alexei Koroayev lived in a fashionable section of Moscow reserved for the elite of the political establishment. The apartments were spacious, and guards, formerly a part of the KGB, were stationed by the entrance to the compound. Bakhtin had to show his ID twice to get in to see the noted intelligence officer and politician. The second guard on the third floor of the apartment house was less deferential than the first and studied him for a long moment after checking in with his superior to get authorization to show him in.
Bakhtin walked down a short hallway to the corner apartment on the third floor, squared himself in front of the door and gave it a firm knock. An attractive woman answered the door. He introduced himself, then she left him to tell Koroayev that his visitor had arrived. She reappeared after a few moments and ushered him into a larger room where the director of one of the world's most prestigious intelligence agencies remained seated on a large sofa.
Koroayev didn't stand or offer a handshake. This was strictly a subordinate reporting to a man who was far superior in political stature. Koroayev was taller and more slender than the SVR agent with thinning gray hair surrounding his head. His sophisticated features lent an aura of authority about him, and he had the knack of motivating people into being fanatically loyal subordinates. Bakhtin could see him as President of Russia someday, and he was sure that many others could as well.
Koroayev looked Bakhtin over, quickly noting his stocky frame and heavy, flat face. Bakhtin looked as if he belonged in a steel mill with his large hands and barrel chest. Koroayev's eyes fell on the folder Bakhtin held in his hand.
"You have some details for me?" asked the intel chief in a voice ringing with authority.
"Yes, sir," replied Bakhtin. He opened the folder and began to look through it to summarize the situation, but Koroayev only held out his hand to take the folder from him. Bakhtin handed it over and stood uncomfortably while Koroayev read the entire file.
"You are recording their conversations in their hotel room, I presume," said Koroayev. "Anything in that?"
"Not yet, sir," answered Bakhtin. "They are being careful of what they say."
"Admiral Topov thinks that they are going after the Awa Maru," said Koroayev as he leveled his gaze on the SVR agent. "What do you think?"
"The admiral and I agree, sir," replied Bakhtin firmly. Now was no time to waver. He sensed that Koroayev would think it a weakness.
Koroayev lapsed into thought for a few moments, then seemed to come to a decision.
"Comrade Bakhtin, I would like you to do something for me. I could make it an order, but I would rather consider this a personal favor," said Koroayev.
Bakhtin's eyes grew wider at the notion that the head of Russian foreign intelligence would be indebted to him. But what would it be? Something very difficult? Something illegal?
"Of course, sir, I will help in any way I can," replied Bakhtin who straightened a bit.
"Good. There are documents aboard the Awa Maru that must not see the light of day," said Koroayev in a low voice. "It would be very embarrassing for Russia, and our service in particular, if they were found."
Bakhtin opened his mouth in surprise. He did not expect anything of this sort. He knew better than to ask what the documents contained, but he did have one question.
"Documents aboard a ship that was sunk over sixty years ago? Would not the sea have taken care of them years ago?" he asked.
"I am told that these particular documents were in a sealed metal container. They could very well have survived all this time," replied Koroayev. "We can't let anyone see these documents."
"I understand, sir," replied Bakhtin after a moment. "I will recommend disapproval of the request immediately."
"No," said Koroayev thoughtfully after a moment's pause. "No, I want you to do just the opposite."
Bakhtin's mouth opened further this time. "I don't understand, sir."
"This American, Hendrick, probably has treasure fever by now," said Koroayev with a hint of a smile. "Nothing will stop him, not a disapproved request for the use of a submarine at any rate. I think that you will find that he has tried to salvage this ship before, and was unsuccessful. Now he wants a submarine to try it again. If he doesn't get a submarine from us, he'll get it from someone else."
"We can stop him other ways," replied Bakhtin, thinking of the murders his organization did routinely years ago.
"No, no," said Koroayev. "That might only attract others. No, he must be given every chance to succeed. We must make him succeed at the salvage of this ship, and at the same time keep the documents from him."
Bakhtin got a confused look on his face, then his features relaxed as he hit upon a solution. "He and his partner are trying to recruit a crew. I will make sure that he gets the right kind of crew. We have some ex-submariners in our organization. And there is Captain First Rank Golubev who just retired. Although he's not in the Sluzhba, I'm certain we could convince him to be part of the crew."
Koroayev smiled fully for the first time and nodded his head. Bakhtin waited for Koroayev to say something, but he just closed the folder and handed it back to him. Bakhtin turned to go.
"Let me make this clear, Comrade Bakhtin," said Koroayev in a low voice. "If the documents are recovered by your people, then they must destroy them immediately before they are brought to the surface."
Bakhtin was puzzled for a moment. "You don't want them brought to you to be sure that they are genuine?"
"No," replied Koroayev firmly. "There would be too much chance of them falling into the wrong hands." He leveled his eyes on Bakhtin and held his gaze. "Destroy them immediately. Is that clear?"
"It is clear, sir," replied Bakhtin.
Georgi Bakhtin leaned back in his chair, which pushed his thighs up against the bottom of his desk. This arrangement prevented him from leaning backward further, and by flexing his thigh muscles, Bakhtin was able to rock slightly back and forth. He had the habit of lapsing into what some would call strange behavior whenever he had a problem on his mind. Sometimes his tongue clucking would go on incessantly until someone would remind him of the noise he was making.
The meeting just concluded with Alexei Koroayev was still on his mind and wouldn't let him alone. Documents aboard a sunken ship? He glanced again at the report from the research section. A ship sunk in 1945, at the very end of the Great Patriotic War. He had learned a lot of things in the last hour. This Awa Maru supposedly had up to five billion American dollars worth of goods on board when she went down. His mind stopped at the staggering sum. No wonder this man Hendrick wanted to salvage it.
But there was something else on board, he thought. Something damaging to the Russian state. Documents. What could possibly be on board a ship sunk over sixty years ago that could be damaging to Russia's intelligence organization?
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. He could tell that the knock came from his assistant Kiselev. His knock was timid as if he were a chicken pecking at food.
"Enter," said Bakhtin. The door immediately opened and Kiselev's slight figure came into the room.
"You wanted a picture of the American who wants to rent a submarine," declared Kiselev as a way of reminding his boss of a previous order. "The surveillance team that was placed on the two Americans, took some yesterday." He spread the photos out on Bakhtin's desk.
Bakhtin's eyes immediately locked onto the larger of the two Americans. He was instantly familiar. Bakhtin picked up one of the enlargements of the man and noted that the name scribbled on the bottom of the photo was Stephen Hendrick.
Recognition suddenly clicked in Bakhtin's mind. This was the same face he had seen through the periscope on the ship in the Taiwan Strait! He leaped to his feet and stared at the fuzzy enlargement on the wall. It was the same man. The brave men aboard the bullet-riddled ship were now going after a fortune in sunken treasure.
"So, Stephen Hendrick," said Bakhtin in a soft voice as he stared with a smile at the photo. "We meet once again."
CHAPTER 6
Hidden Sun
Steve Hendrick's head swam for a moment as he realized what the man on the phone was saying. Hendrick thanked the man profusely and hung up. He turned to his expectant partner.
"They just approved the sub deal," Hendrick said with a big smile.
Joe Malik let out a whoop of joy and grabbed Hendrick's arms to dance him around the room. He stopped suddenly and clapped his hands.
"All we need now is a crew," said Hendrick.
"Yeah, Stashinsky is supposed to be here any minute," said Malik.
Hendrick began to tick off the things they had to do before setting sail for the Taiwan Strait. "We've got to get the underwater gear shipped from the States to Petropavlovsk to be loaded on board the sub. And tell our salvage crew to get ready." They had arranged for an experienced crew of six experts, a mixture of British and Americans to help them conduct salvage operations.
"Right. I'll take care of that," replied Malik.
"I have to get Topov his money," said Hendrick. He pointed at Malik. "You've got to arrange for a boat to pick up the salvage and haul it back to the States."
"Right. No sweat," Malik said.
"Let's see," continued Hendrick. "It'll take about three months to check out and load supplies on the sub. Then we've got those special fittings we want on the hatches -"
A knock on the door interrupted their planning. Malik answered it and ushered in Igor Stashinsky who waved several sheets of paper in front of him.
"I told you it would be no problem," declared Stashinsky. "I have all the names and qualifications of the crew right here."
"Good. Let's see it," said Hendrick.
Stashinsky pulled the paper close to him instead of putting it in Hendrick's outstretched hand.
"I think we have to talk about what this is worth," said Stashinsky.
"We already agreed on your fee and what each crew member will get," growled Hendrick.
"I have found that I have certain other expenses," began Stashinsky.
"How much?" asked Malik through clenched teeth.
"Fifty thousand dollars," said Stashinsky boldly.
"You can go to hell with your fifty thousand dollars!" shouted Hendrick. "Joe, throw him out!"
Malik grabbed the physically smaller man and marched him toward the door.
"I can do with five thousand dollars," said Stashinsky in a hurry.
"Out!" replied Hendrick. "We'll get our own goddamn crew!"
"Stop! All right!" surrendered Stashinsky. "I will lose money on this deal, but I will do it for the agreed price."
Malik got the harried Russian to the door, then turned to look at Hendrick.
"Then let's see your list," said Hendrick.
Malik turned the man around and shoved him in Hendrick's direction. Hendrick snatched the papers out of Stashinsky's hand and began looking them over.
"The deal was forty dollars a day for each crew member, fifty dollars for the officers, and sixty for the captain," declared Hendrick. "I hope nobody has a problem with that."
"No, no," replied Stashinsky hastily.
The pay for the crew was a pittance, but he couldn't let the Russians think he had deep pockets, or else they would hold up the whole deal for months just to see what they could wring out of him.
Joe Malik, seeing that their business was finished for now, opened the door to let Stashinsky out. The Russian took a tentative step toward the door, then looked at Hendrick again.
"Oh, yeah," said Hendrick in an annoyed voice. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a roll of American currency. He tossed the roll toward Stashinsky who quickly caught it in midair.
"Five hundred dollars," Hendrick stated. "You will get the remaining five hundred after we approve the crew."
Stashinsky nodded quickly and practically ran through the doorway to the corridor beyond. He swiftly traversed the hallway amid the sound of the door slamming behind him and turned the corner toward the stairway. Stashinsky nearly ran over the man standing in his way.
"Well, Igor Denisovich, how did your meeting go?" asked Georgi Bakhtin pleasantly.
Stashinsky shook his head in frustration. "These Americans! I thought they would be easy to deal with, but they are pigs! Suki syn!" He turned his head to one side and made a spitting motion.
Bakhtin smiled. "What's the matter, comrade? Didn't they let you increase your price at the last minute? I think the Americans call that a gouge. It is your favorite trick, I know."
Stashinsky gave Bakhtin a dirty look, then lowered his head.
This American Hendrick continues to impress me, thought Bakhtin. I knew he wouldn't let this slime, Stashinsky cheat him.
"Is the deal made, Igor Denisovich?" asked Bakhtin quietly.
Stashinsky nodded his head. "Yes. It is done."
"You gave them the crew list that I had made up for you?" Bakhtin persisted. Stashinsky nodded.
Bakhtin thought of the old experienced sea captain, Golubev with whom he had recently toured the Taiwan Strait. If anyone would get Hendrick through this adventure, it would be Golubev. The ragged old submariner had had a short retirement indeed.
But it wasn't Golubev who would do what had to be done. For that he would need others. Loshak and Drukarev currently in Japan would be his real representatives on the submarine. Those two would destroy the mysterious documents on the Awa Maru.
Or, perhaps bring them back for his own examination.
"We have to pick a point to make the transfer of the treasure from the sub to another ship to take it back to the U.S.," said Hendrick as he went back to reviewing all the project's details.
Joe Malik went over to an attaché case and pulled out a chart and spread it out on the too-small table in their hotel room. "I've done some thinking about that. And I think I know just where to make the transfer."
Hendrick looked at the chart, the names not registering in his mind. "Where is this?"
Malik held his finger up to his lips to tell him to be quiet. He glanced around in an obvious manner to tell him that the room was probably bugged. Hendrick nodded. He understood.
Malik took out a pad of paper and a pencil and sketched out the coast of China, Taiwan, and the Northern Philippines just south of Taiwan. He pointed to the chart, then pointed to his sketch between Taiwan and the Philippines. Hendrick understood that the chart was a blow up of the area between the two major island groups.
Malik then pointed to a relatively large island in the middle of the chart. Hendrick leaned closer to read the name. Itbayat Island, he mouthed soundlessly. Malik nodded.
Unknown to both of them, hidden in one of the numerous cracks in the ceiling was a lens attached to the end of a fiber optic cable. The fiber optic cable ran down an airshaft to the basement and fed optical signals into a small video camera. Two men with distinctly Asian features huddled over the small monitor, which showed the interior of Hendrick and Malik's hotel room. With some post processing of the videotape, they would also clearly see the chart Joe Malik had laid on the table.
LUBYANSKAYA SQUARE, MOSCOW
Georgi Bakhtin blew the dust from the top of the file with distaste. He felt a sneeze coming on and threw the file down on a tabletop so he could rummage in his pocket for a handkerchief. He got the cloth up to his mouth and nose an instant before he issued a thunderous sneeze. Bakhtin sneezed twice more, then blew his nose with a vengeance. This research was starting to get to him, he knew, but he pressed on determined to discover more information on the mysterious documents that had Koroayev so worried.
The most sensitive of the ancient archives of the KGB, and before that the NKVD, were stored in the basement of the Lubyanka in Lubyanskaya Square, formerly Dzerzhinsky Square in Moscow. The square reverted to its original name sometime after the statue of Feliks Dzerzhinsky, which had been displayed prominently in front of the KGB headquarters, was ripped down by the citizens of Moscow in a display of anger at the KGB. In the 1920s Feliks Dzerzhinsky was the leader of the Cheka, the ancestor of the KGB, and as such, was the target of continuing hatred from the Russian people.
Bakhtin had used his intelligence clearance to rummage around in the dusty, decaying files to see what he could discover about who might have been on the ill-fated Awa Maru carrying those mysterious documents.
On the search for about a month, he was beginning to think that he would never find anything on this situation, because he knew that many KGB files were destroyed to cover up wrongdoing by the agency's members. He confined his search to files created in the latter half of the Great Patriotic War, which the rest of the world called World War II. This led him to the dankest parts of the building, and safes built into the walls with doors that screamed with reluctance when opened. He carried an oiling can to coax them open, and to silence them as well.
Bakhtin had opened his twentieth safe and had pulled out a single, thin, corroded folder from the bottom of the safe. He wiped the cover of the folder clean and squinted to read its title in the dim light from the single bulb in the center of the ceiling of the basement room.
"Skrytoe Solntse," murmured Bakhtin to himself. Hidden Sun was the name of the covert project documented in the folder. He opened the folder and found only a single memo on yellowing paper. It was dated February 26, 1945. Bakhtin read the two typewritten paragraphs quickly and clucked his tongue at the lack of information in the memo. Typically the folders, even the old ones, had a description of the project, then had supporting memos and reports of the setup of the project and the results. This project had, on the other hand, only a single, cryptic memo describing a diplomatic mission that would travel through China. It didn't even say what the mission's purpose was, or whom they would contact.
Of the twenty missions he had reviewed, this was the only one that had occurred roughly at the same time and was even remotely in the same area as the Awa Maru. The facts swirled in his mind, but he was unable to connect any of them.
A metal cylinder containing documents, a diplomatic mission, and a sunken freighter over half a century old. And a note in an old file to inform Alexi Koroayev, the head of the SVR, of any information on that sunken ship. Then orders to destroy the cylinder and its documents, never again to see the light of day. How were they connected?
Why would Koroayev want to suppress information over sixty years old?
TAIPEI, TAIWAN
Maggie Ramsey took a sip of her strawberry daiquiri as she looked about the bar from her vantage point at a small table in the corner. The clientele was about evenly divided between Taiwanese and a half dozen foreign nationalities, all chattering away in a myriad of dialects creating a buzz with an international flavor in the large room. Here and there she could pick up a sentence or two, sometimes only a fragment, which tantalized her with lost information.
She couldn't decide if she really liked the place with its dinosaur decor. The building had skeletons of dinosaurs on the roof and on the outsides of the building, with dinosaur bones sticking out of the ceiling, walls, and floor in the interior. The waiters and waitresses continued the Paleolithic theme by wearing shirts with dinosaur bones on them. It was quite a gimmick and totally unexpected in the Far East, but it drew a horde of customers, making the owners happy.
It was late in the evening and she had gotten bored in her hotel room, so she wandered down a nearby street and into this conveniently located watering hole. She hoped the activity in the bar would distract her from thinking about Steve Hendrick, but the thoughts continued even as the alcohol in her drink wound its way to her brain and began to relax her mind.
He had dropped her off in Taipei a few months ago, and she hadn't heard from him since. The most intriguing man she had ever met, Hendrick had come on strong with that stolen kiss as they had come in out of the rain, but then there was nothing. He must really be obsessed with the Awa Maru, she thought. I usually have more of an effect on men than that.
She had been true to her original mission, to find out what Hendrick was up to in the Taiwan Strait. She had found that out and more. The report she filed was long and detailed. Bad luck had brought the pirates across her path, but dumb luck had dumped her right into Hendrick's lap.
As she stared into her drink, the chair across from her scraped on the floor. She looked up suddenly. A short, round Oriental man sat down and gave her a friendly look. He appeared to be drunk.
"Hello," he said in passable English and smiled, showing a few missing teeth on each side of his mouth. "Can talk? Yes?"
Maggie groaned inwardly and drained the rest of her daiquiri from her glass. She glanced at him and curiously noted that his left hand was moving across the tabletop in a strange manner.
"No, we can't talk, because I'm leaving," she replied and grabbed her purse in preparation for her hasty exit. She glanced back at him again and saw with surprise that his half closed eyes were wide open and his alcoholic stupor had disappeared. Her eyes immediately flicked down to his hand which was still moving in smooth motions on the table top.
She followed the motion of his fingers as they traced out a figure over and over. His fingertip left a slight outline in the thin film on the tabletop from the residue of many drinks that had accumulated over time. The figure started off like a squared-off figure eight with a cross next to it and a line underneath the cross. He drew another larger cross below the first cross with a rounded end to its vertical member and a short horizontal line extending from the vertical part of the cross. She waited until he had done it three times to be sure of what she was seeing, then abruptly got to her feet.
"I'm sorry, I must go now," she said and walked to the front door. The small man, putting a disappointed look on his face, turned his head to follow her across the room to the exit. A number of male heads also tracked her, and she received a few invitations to stay a while and get acquainted.
Maggie quickly left the bar and let the refreshing night air fill her lungs displacing the smoky atmosphere of the bar. She knew she had to get back to the hotel room quickly. The man in the bar had traced the Chinese character for time, over and over.
In a few minutes she would receive an important phone call.
PETROPAVLOVSK, RUSSIA
Hendrick and Malik glanced around them at the worn decking on the old docks framed by the huge silent, unused cranes that hovered overhead. Their submarine seemed pitifully small compared to the gigantic shipyard. They glanced about, noting the few individuals moving around the yard. There wasn't much activity, and during their stay they hadn't seen many ships set sail from the once bustling naval base. The Cold War really is over, thought Hendrick.
Their preparations hadn't gone well over the last four months, and Hendrick nearly went into orbit when he discovered the condition of the old, rusty Golf class submarine the Russians had designated for his use. It needed major refurbishment, but with their limited budget he and Malik had decided on the minimum work to at least give a good chance of surfacing after a dive.
And even that work didn't go well. The Russians couldn't seem to understand the impatience of the two Americans and that their budget was limited. Gone were the days of unlimited defense budgets and inefficient workers and management, but the Russian workers lagged behind that realization. It had been a long four months, and now that they were getting close to sailing for the Taiwan Strait each problem became magnified beyond its normal importance.
"Well, there's one thing you've learned over the past few months," said Malik in a light tone of voice. "You can cuss these guys out in Russian pretty good now."
Hendrick gave him a dirty look, then looked away. "Why did we ever think that these bozos could threaten us?"
"Maybe nowadays they don't get a free twenty year vacation to Siberia if they screw up," offered Malik.
Hendrick gave him a wry smile. "That must be it."
"The crew seems to be working out all right," said Malik in an attempt to mollify his friend.
"Yeah, they're better than I figured," conceded Hendrick. "I wish the damn shipyard workers would move their butts a little faster." He looked around while his frustration subsided to manageable levels.
Malik nodded then turned and looked back over his shoulder. "Now that you've calmed down, let's get you riled up again."
Hendrick gave him a questioning look.
"Let's take a look at those welds on the new fittings again to make sure they repaired all the cracks," said Malik. New fittings were needed to attach three large mini-submarines and an emergency decompression chamber to the outside hull. The minisubs were going to be used to transport the gold from the Awa Maru back to the submarine. The external decompression chamber was a backup for the one that had just been installed in the sub's interior through a removable plate in the top deck.
Hendrick rolled his eyes around and took a deep breath. "Yeah, let's take a look at the welds again. My blood pressure just dropped below three hundred over two hundred. Can't have that."
"By the way, does this piece of shit have a name?" asked Malik as he gestured toward the submarine.
"Yeah, the Kurchatov," replied Hendrick. "They told me he was the father of the Russian atomic bomb."
Georgi Bakhtin peered through the dirty curtains in the office of the shipyard supervisor. They were in a ramshackle building about fifty yards down the pier from where Hendrick and Malik were standing.
"What is your status, Igor Pavelovich?" asked Bakhtin who continued to gaze down the dock toward the two Americans.
"We are almost ready, Comrade Bakhtin," answered the shipyard supervisor. "But I understand the Americans are almost out of money."
Bakhtin noticed the satisfied tone in the supervisor's voice and turned to glare at the man. "You will finish your work with them on time and within their remaining budget."
The yard boss gave him a look of fear mixed with curiosity. The old KGB was no longer in existence, but this new SVR could be just as ruthless as the organization it had replaced.
Bakhtin softened his stare a bit and explained. "There are people at the highest levels of our government who want this mission to succeed. Do I make myself clear?"
The supervisor nodded quickly. "Yes, comrade."
Bakhtin turned back toward the window and pushed the curtain aside just enough to peek outside once again. "Send Loshak and Drukarev to see me, but do not let the others know that I am here. Make up some excuse for them to leave."
The yard boss nodded then left with the door slamming behind him, while Bakhtin's thoughts turned to what he had found out about the documents that had gotten Koroayev so worried. Koroayev was on the rise and may someday become President of Russia. In spite of that, Bakhtin had decided to disobey Koroayev's orders that the documents aboard the Awa Maru be destroyed. Alexi Koroayev desperately wanted to hide this past event, and Georgi Bakhtin had to know why.
This cylinder with its mysterious documents would be kept as a form of insurance, call it financial insurance, he thought. As a colonel in the Russian Foreign Intelligence service, he continually dealt with secrets. This would be just one more secret. He, along with many of his coworkers, needed some way to insure their future against the insecurities now rampant in Russia. What better way than to keep one of his country's most embarrassing secrets?
Minutes later, Loshak and Drukarev stood expectantly in front of him. Bakhtin turned and gave them a hard look to convey the importance of what he was about to tell them.
"Your orders have changed," said Bakhtin in his most authoritative voice. The two men looked at him curiously. "You will not destroy the documents as previously ordered. You will retrieve them and give them only to me in the sealed container. Is that clear?"
They both nodded quickly and mumbled, "Yes, sir."
TAIPEI, TAIWAN
Maggie Ramsey dropped the phone back on the hook. The message she had just received was couched in her employer's peculiar code, which she knew she could never sort out without resorting to some technical wizardry. She had recorded it on a small tape recorder and played it over again to make sure she had clear speech. The man on the phone had enunciated carefully - he knew the ultimate destination of his spoken words.
She had been trained by her supervisor not to write anything down, to use the computer, then erase both the tape and the computer files as well. She pulled out her notebook computer and quickly connected the tape recorder's analog output to the input on the computer via a small cable. The computer would convert the speech to digital bits and analyze it to decrypt the message, as well as verify, via voice print analysis, the identity of the speaker. She started the tape playback, then called up another program and typed in the key word to set up the decoder. The computer took two minutes, then displayed the message with an accompanying beep.
Maggie's eyes devoured the information quickly. As she sorted the message out in her mind, she felt a rare excitement. Her newest task would throw her into intrigue and quite possibly danger once again. She confirmed what the task was to be, then let her gaze linger on four words that happened to be grouped together in the body of the message.
Awa Maru and Stephen Hendrick.
So, she thought, Steve is going after the Awa Maru again. Itbayat Island would be a key place - that was where he would transfer the treasure from his submarine to another ship. But she knew she would have to get to him before he got to Itbayat Island.
She would have to go into the Taiwan Strait after him. Again.
The tall, thin Japanese man walked down the corridor of the apartment building looking for the number he had been given by his own personal intelligence service. Faded wallpaper hung in strands from the crumbling plaster walls. The rug had a long, wide, brown stain along its middle, the trail of countless inhabitants. He wrinkled his nose at the potent cabbage smells from a few of the apartments. Most of the apartments seemed to be empty, an unusual occurrence in Russia. He attributed it to the end of the cold war and the general lack of activity at the naval base nearby. He found his destination and knocked on the door. The door opened after a few moments.
"Yevgeny Loshak?" he inquired of the belligerent looking man who answered the door. The Japanese was wearing a silk scarf over his face, and attempted a smile, but the taut lines around his eyes refused to budge.
Loshak looked him over warily. In the corner of his eye he saw his partner, Drukarev, set up with his gun drawn behind the door.
"Why do you want to talk to Loshak?" he asked as he put his cigarette in his mouth for a long pull.
"A business proposition," replied the Oriental stranger.
"Start talking," said Loshak and blew a large cloud of smoke into the man's face. The Japanese man didn't flinch. He reached behind his head and untied the scarf in one fluid motion, letting it drop away revealing his features. The seams of flesh looked like granite that had coalesced from a lava flow. His eyes held nothing. They were either dead or held some monumental evil within. The skin was sallow, the mouth drawn into a tight line.
"You are about to embark on a voyage to the Taiwan Strait seeking treasure, are you not?" asked the thin man.
Loshak gave him a stony look.
"There is a service that you will be in a unique position to provide to me," continued the stranger. "A service for which I am willing to pay quite a lot." He pulled out a business card and handed it to Loshak. There was no name on the card just a phone number and an e-mail address. Loshak's eyes went immediately to the Japanese characters on the right side of the card. They were printed in red ink, smeared as if they had run before drying. Underneath was the English word, Truth.
Loshak glanced at Drukarev who shrugged.
"How much?" asked Loshak.
"Ten million American dollars," said the Japanese gentleman.
Loshak's and especially Drukarev's eyes went wide open.
"Would you like to come in?" asked Loshak with a smile.
CHAPTER 7
OSS Mission
CIA HEADQUARTERS,
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA
Robert Lindsey sank into one of the comfortable chairs around the conference room table and settled back wondering why he had been called to attend this meeting. He hadn't been ordered - they couldn't do that anymore - he had been retired some twelve years now.
The room filled quickly, and he shook hands with the few remaining active CIA employees that he knew. They all settled down and the meeting began. The chairman went through all the required preliminaries, classification level of the meeting and other bureaucratic information. He then swiftly got to the point.
"There is yet another team which is going to attempt to salvage the Awa Maru," began the chairman.
So that's why I was called, thought Lindsey. The Awa Maru again.
"This is a team of Americans led by Stephen Hendrick and Joseph Malik. Our source tells us that the Russian government has allowed them to rent a submarine for the salvage operation," continued the meeting chairman.
The name Hendrick made Lindsey sit up straight in his chair. A relation to Ed Hendrick? he asked himself quickly. Ed had a son named Stephen. Was it the same man? He resolved to confirm the connection between his OSS partner, Ed Hendrick, and Stephen Hendrick who was now going after the Awa Maru.
"Of course, the wreck of the Awa Maru is in PRC territorial waters and the possibility that this salvage attempt is an intelligence mission is high," said the chairman. "Therefore the prudent course of action was to get one of our own people among the sub crew, or diving team they were assembling, to keep an eye on things. Our British cousins offered to help with one of their own agents and managed to get him to go along at the last minute."
Lindsey's thoughts drifted as the meeting went on. I was on the Awa Maru, he thought, at its defining moment. With Ed Hendrick. It all started in Singapore on March 27, 1945. Strange that I remember the exact date. But so much of what happened was set in his memory like a vein of metal in the ground, only able to be mined by the most powerful of emotional explosives. His thoughts ran on. He let them go, reviewing the incident that occurred a lifetime ago.
The two Americans slipped quietly from the nighttime shadows around a parked vehicle, quickly flung wire around the Japanese soldiers' necks and strangled them. Bob Lindsey and Ed Hendrick were adept at disposing of the enemy guards around an intelligence target. They had been doing the same work for three years and had gotten proficient at their murderous techniques. Lindsey was even able to suppress the pang of guilt he felt after each killing. As one of the leading agents for the American Office of Strategic Services, or OSS, in the Far Eastern Theater, he had seen too much death on both sides to remain greatly affected for long.
The two agents dragged the soldiers' bodies over to the side of the road, Lindsey's tall thin frame struggling more than the muscular Hendrick who seemed to move the body with ease. They propped one body up on a rickety chair and the other against the fence, which surrounded the pier area in Singapore. Hendrick handed Lindsey a half empty bottle of saki and kept one for himself. They opened the bottles and forced some into the two dead men's mouths. They spilled some on the soldiers' shirts then carefully placed the bottles in their hands. Lindsey stepped back and gave the dead soldiers a quick look over as Hendrick glanced around furtively. The two dead men appeared to be just two more drunken soldiers.
The ruse would not last long. The sergeant of the guard would quickly discover that they were dead, but if the deception delayed the alarm for even five seconds, then it was worth the trouble. Lindsey and Hendrick knew from experience that even a slight edge could be the difference between life and death.
They headed quickly toward the pier area, where a large green Japanese ship was about to get underway on her last voyage. The freighter was big, over eleven thousand tons displacement and over five hundred feet long, and was being loaded with war materiel desperately needed by the Japanese. Lindsey had seen dozens of similar ships, some larger, most smaller, and had photographed and collected data on many of them.
But this one was different. Huge white crosses were painted on either side of its single stack. White crosses also appeared on the top of the bridge, on the second and fifth hatches, and two crosses were painted on either side of the hull. The white crosses were lit with lines of bulbs clearly distinguishing this vessel from all the rest in the Japanese fleet. The war, which had kept many cities, installations, and ships in the dark at night, had also miraculously produced this one brightly lit ship. This ship had been given safe passage back to Japan and was therefore off-limits to the United States Navy.
Lindsey crouched behind a wooden crate and let his eyes sweep the ship. He looked at the bustle of cars and trucks that ran up and down the length of the pier. He turned to his partner and reached for the binoculars, which Hendrick had been using. Lindsey moved to one side of the wooden box and slowly peered around the corner. A huge, black sedan rumbled up the wooden deck and screeched to a stop in front of the checkpoint nearest the ship. The guards' casual manner immediately disappeared as they went to work verifying the identity of the latest group of people to embark on the ship.
Most of the passengers Lindsey and Hendrick had seen were Japanese merchant seamen by the look of them, and as such they were not the people that the two agents were looking for.
The groups that arrived in an arrogant manner, the VIPs, were the ones they concentrated on. Like the group that had just arrived, thought Lindsey. He stared through the binoculars at the guards in the brown uniforms that surrounded the car. The car emptied quickly, and Lindsey knew they had found what they had come for.
"Russians," said Lindsey.
Lindsey could see two individuals in the group flanked by stocky men with ill-fitting coats betraying the array of weapons that lay within. The men with the thick figures looked about with controlled anxiety in the manner of bodyguards, then quickly moved off with the two important people in the group.
"NKVD," mumbled Lindsey under his breath. Hendrick looked at him curiously but said nothing. The NKVD, or Narodnyy Komissariat Vnutrennikh Del, the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs for the Soviet Union was the descendent of the notorious Cheka, which had terrorized Soviet citizens to keep them in line with Communist principles. The NKVD also supplied bodyguards for important party officials. One of the men they were protecting was Boris Deriabin who Lindsey knew was straight from Moscow. The other man Lindsey didn't know.
Why were Russians boarding a Japanese ship? Lindsey asked himself. The Russians were allied with the United States in World War II, so why were they going to talk to the Japanese?
Lindsey stared through the binoculars at the group going up the gangway and noted a bag carried by Deriabin's companion. The bright lights from the sides and superstructure of the ship glinted off something near the man's wrist.
A handcuff! Lindsey exhaled quickly and strained to make out more detail, but the men abruptly passed from view and into the interior of the ship. Yes, thought Lindsey, it would make sense. Deriabin was sometimes used as a roving ambassador by the Soviet government. Ambassadors carry papers with them, letters of introduction and the like. And only the most important of these bags were manacled to a human being. If he could get a look inside the bag, then he would surely discover the Soviet mission to Japan.
Excited voices were heard in the distance. Lindsey and Hendrick immediately knew that the dead guards had been found. It was time to move.
Fifteen minutes later, Lindsey and Hendrick slid through the chilly waters of Singapore's harbor about a quarter mile from where the Awa Maru was docked.
The water was as polluted as it was cold, with raw sewage mixing with garbage and a thin oil slick to produce a revolting slime on the surface of the water. The slime transferred itself to them as they raised their heads out of the water periodically to measure their progress. Here and there a rat swam by. They could clearly see the two blazing white crosses that made the sea side of the ship look like midafternoon.
They started to swim toward the nearest cross painted on the aft quarter of the ship. Lindsey kept a wary eye on the deck above for any alert soldiers. Lindsey remembered Hendrick's comment that they would look like debris floating on the water. He prayed his friend was right.
The bright cross in front of them suddenly went dark, and Lindsey could hear the reaction of some of the crew to the failure of the lights. Shouts and the sounds of running feet floated down to them as Hendrick immediately sped up to reach the side of the ship before the failure was repaired.
Lindsey and Hendrick reached the ship just under the white cross and gave a nervous look forward toward the still-lit cross near the bow. They heard the slap of something against the side of the ship and looked up to see a rope ending three feet above the water. Hendrick leaped up and got a hand on the rope - a foot higher and they would both be stranded in the polluted water next to the half-lit ship. He pulled himself out of the water with strong hand-over-hand movements. Lindsey looked upward nervously for the sight of a rifle barrel pointed at them perhaps with an enraged Japanese soldier's face hovering above it, but there was nothing.
His eyes followed the rope up the side of the ship until it curved over the railing and disappeared inside of the ship.
Hendrick got ten feet above the water, and Lindsey grabbed the now gyrating rope end and hauled himself upward. The two men climbed, feverishly anticipating the imminent repair of the electrical failure. Hendrick got to the deck, and after quickly looking around, slid underneath the railing and disappeared from view. Lindsey reached the top thirty seconds later and peered over the edge toward the interior of the ship. He could see two shadows near one of the aft hatches. He gave a quick glance around and swiftly threw his legs up to the deck and wiggled on board.
The two shadows moved quickly and were next to him in an instant. Lindsey could feel Hendrick's presence near him, but the other man was a Chinese agent whose identity was a mystery and would always remain so. Lindsey knew better than to ask who he was. The two immediately began to coil up the rope. When the rope was stowed in its original position, the three men silently went forward to reach their ultimate destination, a sealed off space in the engineering area of the ship.
From there, and only at night, Lindsey and Hendrick would go about their work, determining the mission of the Russian delegation aboard the Awa Maru.
"Radar contact!" said the phone talker on the bridge of the USS Queenfish. Commander Charles Loughlin, captain of the Queenfish, looked quickly in the young man's direction. They were in the Formosa Strait. It was April 1, 1945, 2200 hours.
"Range: Seventeen thousand yards!" said the phone talker. "Bearing two, three, zero degrees true!"
"Sound general quarters," said Loughlin. "Battle stations surface!" The command was transmitted throughout the boat and the crew scrambled to their GQ stations.
Loughlin stared into the thick fog and raised his binoculars to his eyes. It was no use. He estimated the visibility at two hundred yards maximum. The fog passed by them in dense lumps, sometimes so thick that he had a hard time seeing the railing in front of him. Other times it would thin out, raising the hope that he might make visual contact with their target some eight miles distant. The sky was overcast, but occasionally the moon would break through the clouds without providing any increase in visibility on the surface of the sea.
The range at which they made contact suggested that their quarry was a Japanese destroyer, one of the most dangerous ships he could face. If he fired and missed, the destroyer would be on him in a matter of minutes.
"Contact's speed is sixteen knots," said the phone talker. "Course is zero, four, five degrees true. Recommended course is zero, five, zero degrees true."
"Left standard rudder, come to course zero, five, zero," ordered Loughlin. The helm repeated the orders and got a "very well" from the captain.
Loughlin picked up a bridge phone as the fog swirled around him. "Fire control, this is the captain. Is she zigzagging?"
"Doesn't seem to be, Captain. She hasn't changed course yet," was the reply.
Loughlin concluded that they were facing a destroyer. Merchant ships normally went only eight or ten knots and zigzagged to avoid submarines. Merchants were much larger than destroyers as well and would be contacted by the Queenfish's radar at ranges of twenty-five thousand yards or more. Furthermore the contact was headed toward the location of an action between another U.S. submarine, the Sea Fox, and a Japanese convoy. The battle happened earlier in the day, but it made sense that a destroyer would be sailing to the aid of the stricken convoy and intent upon taking out any U.S. subs it could find.
Loughlin turned to the phone talker. "Load all stern tubes," he ordered. "Set depth for three feet." The young sailor repeated the commands into his microphone. Loughlin was going to attack with his stern tubes, which would point him away from the target. He wanted to be in a position to escape quickly if their attack was unsuccessful.
The captain of the Queenfish listened to the range reports as they drew closer to their target.
Lindsey looked down the darkened hallway aboard the Awa Maru toward the rooms set aside for the Russian diplomatic party.
"Anyone left in there?" he whispered into Hendrick's ear.
"They always leave at least one person inside each room," answered Hendrick.
Lindsey glanced at his watch. The glowing radium dots told him that it was a little after eleven. He strained to hear any sounds coming from the rooms but could hear nothing except the constant drone of the ship's engines and the rushing noise of the sea sliding by the hull. Normally they could hear the deep guttural voices of the Russians as they talked and argued over God only knows what.
Hendrick fished around in his pocket and produced the skeleton key for all the staterooms on the ship. Their ally, who had helped them get on board, managed to steal a master key for the night. Lindsey and Hendrick tiptoed around the corner of the passageway and crept up to the nearest door of the Russian staterooms.
The Soviet party kept out of sight during the day, not wanting anyone to know of their presence on the ship. At night when everyone else was asleep, they would take walks up on deck and imbibe in some of the captain's private stock of liquor. They would only return at three or four in the morning.
Lindsey grabbed the lever that substituted for a doorknob and slowly rotated it. He didn't get far. After moving a few degrees, he could move it no further. He slowly slipped the key into the lock, the lock making a soft click as the bolt slid back. Lindsey opened the door a crack, fervently hoping that the hinges wouldn't squeak and betray them to anyone inside.
The room had two beds along the left wall and closets along the right wall. Light from the brilliantly lit crosses on the outside of the ship filtered through the thin curtain covering the small outside window. The light was enough for Lindsey to find his way around. He looked briefly at the beds in the dim light. One was neatly made, but the other had a pile of clothes and a blanket in disarray.
He went quickly to the closets and went through them one by one. At the bottom of the last one, he found what he was looking for. The bag with a handcuff still attached lay before him. If he could steal what was inside the bag, photograph it, then return it before the Russians found out, then his mission would be complete. The OSS agent put trembling hands on the briefcase latches. Hendrick produced lock picks and silently got the brief case lock open. Lindsey pulled the brief case open, and Hendrick reached inside. He pulled something out that looked like a pipe.
Lindsey suddenly heard a rustle of material close behind him.
"Fire four!" ordered Loughlin. Three quarters of a mile away from the Awa Maru, Commander Loughlin strained through the persistent fog to catch a glimpse of his four torpedoes, speeding toward the target. There was a hush throughout the boat.
Moments later, the bridge crew of the Queenfish heard the first explosion and saw a brief flash through the fog. In the seconds that followed, they heard three more explosions and saw each flash. All of their torpedoes had hit the target. Loughlin knew what the contact must look like at this point. With huge holes blown in her starboard side, the waters of Formosa Strait were gushing in rapidly and causing an extreme starboard list, one from which the vessel would never recover.
Loughlin squinted into the fog, which was as thick as when they began tracking the now rapidly sinking target. Neither he nor anyone on the Queenfish had actually sighted the target during the entire time of the attack even though they had closed the range to twelve hundred yards. Loughlin turned toward an elated bridge crew.
"Scratch one Jap destroyer," he said and smiled.
Lindsey snapped back to the present with a start as he realized the meeting was over. He hadn't contributed much, but someone had said to someone else, Have everyone who knows anything about the Awa Maru at the meeting. And that included him. So he had attended like the dutiful intelligence soldier he was, or had been.
A Russian had come up behind him so many years ago and Lindsey was forced to shoot him, the shot muffled by a pillow that Lindsey managed to grab. The torpedoes struck, and the world exploded around the two OSS men. They were separated in the chaos of the sinking ship, but both survived. Lindsey had swum to a nearby island, thinking Ed Hendrick had been killed, and only found out years later that his best friend had survived. A look at the USS Queenfish's log revealed only one survivor from the Awa Maru, a Japanese. Lindsey had discovered later that Ed Hendrick had indeed been picked up by the Queenfish but had convinced the captain to omit his name from the boat's log due to his OSS identity and their assigned mission.
They had never found out what the Russian mission was or what significance the cylinder had for that mission. Ed Hendrick's report on the incident had described it as having Cyrillic letters embossed around it. What was inside it? Diplomatic documents?
And now another group of people were going back to see what they could find on the old wreck. Steve Hendrick, of all people, he thought with excitement.
The Special Intelligence Service, British SIS, liaison had mentioned that their agent on the salvage team would report at irregular time intervals due to the difficulty of sending radio signals from a submarine. Lindsey would look forward to those reports with keen interest.
Lindsey heaved his aging body out of the thick cushions and made his way to the exit. Would he ever find out what the Russians were doing aboard the Awa Maru? Would the truth ever come out?
CHAPTER 8
Chang
TAIPEI, TAIWAN
"I need to take a ship into the Taiwan Strait to survey the sea bed," said Maggie Ramsey as she looked over the three men in front of her. "And I understand you gentlemen operate a salvage company."
The men glanced at each other and seemed interested enough. Lin was the largest of the three, a bulk of a man who thoroughly filled the chair he was in. Lin wasn't fat but had little muscle tone. Maggie could imagine him picking up a car and tossing it twenty feet. He regarded her through half-closed eyes and seemed the most skeptical of the bunch. He apparently didn't understand much English; one of the other men translated for him. Maggie could have spoken to them in good Chinese, but she was in no hurry to reveal her knowledge of the language to these men.
Xu was the smallest and seemed to be the leader of the three. He smoked incessantly, lighting his next cigarette from the stub of the last. He smoked long, unfiltered cigarettes and let his saliva wet the end turning it a dark brown.
Yee was the quiet one, and Maggie judged that he was brought along for some sort of analysis. He seemed to be the technical expert of the group. He would start to rock back and forth, then catch himself, or have Xu tap him on the arm, and suddenly stop his motion. They made a typical group from the business community in Taipei, Xu the leader, Lin the muscle, and Yee the expert.
Maggie continued on, giving requirements on the equipment needed for her mission into the Taiwan Strait. She worried that they wouldn't know what a side scan sonar or a magnetometer was, or how to procure them. She concluded her pitch and leaned back in her chair while the three of them continued to stare at her. She picked up her purse in a disinterested manner, totally ignoring their stares. She pulled out a compact and opened it, ostensibly to powder her nose. A glance into the interior of her pocketbook, past the small handgun she carried, told her once again that there were no telltale radio frequency emanations from the three men. The green light emitting diode on the radio frequency field strength meter was still lit - with any appreciable RF field the green LED would go out, and a red LED would light and blink on and off. Maggie had checked the device at the start of their meeting with the same result.
She lightly rubbed some face powder over her nose and across her cheeks then looked back at the three men. She returned their stares looking mostly at Xu. She knew negotiations of this kind required much patience in the Far East, and she was determined to be as patient as possible. They stared at each other for several moments, until Maggie decided to end what she considered to be a stupid game.
"I also need protection from the pirates that run the strait," she added. "I'm sure you men will know how to do that."
"Pirates?" asked Yee in a timid voice.
"Yes, there is one in particular that we will need to defend against," replied Maggie. "His name is Chang."
The three men looked at her impassively.
"Then we will make a voyage to the Balingtang Channel to do more surveying," she added. To catch up with Hendrick at Itbayat Island, she thought to herself. She took time to wonder how the voice on the phone had known that information. It had been part of the encrypted message she had gotten several days ago.
"You gentlemen can take your time reviewing this information," said Maggie smoothly as she stood to stretch her legs and look about the hotel conference room. She went to a table on one side of the room and picked up a soft drink.
"When do you need an answer?" asked Yee. He apparently was the spokesman of the group while the real leader, Xu, just watched and waited.
"Take your time," she said sweetly. "Next month would be fine."
There was a pause for a few moments, then Xu spoke in a voice made hoarse by smoking. "What are you really after, Miss Ramsey?"
Maggie turned and regarded them coolly. She closed her eyes halfway in imitation of Lin.
"Surveying the sea floor," she said slowly. "Nothing more, nothing less."
The three pairs of eyes locked onto her face and grew cold. Maggie began to worry that these men were not the business men they seemed to be.
After another long pause, Xu spoke up, creating an ominous atmosphere. "We could torture you into telling us."
Maggie's eyes flicked immediately over to Lin who hadn't batted an eye. Apparently the big man agreed with whatever Xu had in mind. She raised her handbag, opened it and put her hand inside.
"Well, gentlemen, let's just say we've wasted each others' time, and leave it at that," replied Maggie. Her hand closed around the butt of the small automatic.
Lin's eyes went from Maggie's face to her handbag and stayed there. He slowly got out of his chair. She carefully watched his hands and made the decision that she wouldn't let him reach inside his jacket. She pulled the gun out of her purse and pointed it at Lin.
"Get back in the chair, fat boy," she said through clenched teeth. Lin slowly sank back next to his leader. Xu didn't seem ruffled, but Yee got pretty upset. He wrung his hands, which Maggie didn't mind, because it kept his hands in sight.
"All of you put your hands on the table and keep them where I can see them," ordered Maggie. They all slowly complied. She walked sideways toward the door while keeping her eyes on the men. She put a hand on the doorknob and gave it a quick turn.
"Miss Ramsey, are you the daughter of Fumio Nagata?" asked Xu. His serious face slowly melted into a smile.
The question made her pause.
"Stepdaughter," she shot back carelessly. "What's it to you?"
Maggie yanked the door open, intending to back her way into the hallway beyond but never made it. A strong hand grabbed the gun in her hand and jerked it upward. One arm went around her waist; another went around her neck. She opened her mouth to scream, but a cloth with a noxious smelling substance on it was shoved into her nose and mouth. She kicked and squirmed, but the hold on her was firm. The fumes went into her throat, up her nose, and into her eyes.
Maggie's eyes rolled upward, and she went limp.
ABOARD THE KURCHATOV
Steve Hendrick looked at Joe Malik and actually smiled. It was the first in a long time. "I never thought I'd see this day."
Joe Malik smiled back. "Yeah, in a few minutes we'll actually be underway." They both leaned over the bridge railing and watched the deck crew single up on the lines holding them to their berth. The sub captain, Viktor Golubev, who stood shoulder to shoulder with them, shouted another order to his crew via a megaphone. He watched the men scramble aft to release the lines on the stern of the boat, then he muttered something into a nearby sound powered phone that was connected to the conn.
Hendrick, who had become more fluent in Russian over the past few months, could only follow some of what the captain was saying. Nautical orders in Russian weren't familiar to him.
The sub's engines sped up with a growl, and they could feel the boat's stern begin to swing away from the dock. Golubev watched its progress, then after a few minutes issued another order into the phone. The engine noise dropped quickly. He picked up the megaphone and gave another guttural command to his deck crew. They rushed forward and let go the bow lines.
Golubev expertly backed the boat away from the dock, then gave rudder and engine orders to straighten them out and get them through the channel to the open sea. Even though spring was near, a cold wind hit them, causing them to huddle deeper into their foul weather jackets.
"Nicely done, Captain," said Hendrick and gave the short Russian a pat on the back.
Golubev nodded, then raised binoculars to his eyes. "Spasiba."
An hour later when they had cleared the port and had the wide-open Pacific in front of them, Golubev tapped Hendrick on the shoulder. He turned and looked at the craggy features of the Russian sub captain.
"Dive," said Golubev and pointed his finger down.
Hendrick nodded. He and Joe Malik squirmed their way over to the hatch leading down the conning tower below deck. Golubev waited until they were below then gave more orders. The rumbling diesel engine stopped, creating a queer vacuum of sound as the sub's propulsion went on electric motors.
Golubev arrived below and secured the hatch leading up to the conning tower, then looking over the shoulders of his crewmembers to insure safety, he gave the order to dive. The dive alarm went off alerting the crew, and Hendrick and Malik could see the professionalism of the crew in the conn as they expertly took the sub below the waves. They had been assured that they were getting an excellent crew, many of whom were recently mustered out from the Russian submarine force. The two Americans nodded to each other in satisfaction at the sure, confident motions of their Russian shipmates.
Golubev barked out a few orders to correct some minor errors, then got on the ship's intercom to tell his crew to look for leaks. Previously he had a man stationed at each hatch with the rest spread out through the boat to inform him quickly of any leaks. He turned to Hendrick and Malik.
"We go to thirty meter - see if we leak," Golubev said in English.
"Good," replied Hendrick. He glanced at Malik. "Cross your fingers ol' buddy."
"Yeah," muttered Malik as he glanced about nervously. Hendrick kept his eyes on the depth gauge and followed their progress to the ordered depth. The sub groaned as the metal got used to the pressure once again. Hendrick wondered how many miles the vessel had on her. Golubev received a few intermittent reports of minor leaks, but generally he seemed pleased at the condition of the sub.
Hendrick's thoughts turned to the near future as anticipation filled him. Next stop - the Taiwan Strait.
"Captain, let's go over the charts again," said Hendrick. Together they walked the few steps to the chart table. "You will take us to this point, Point Alpha." Hendrick's finger stabbed the chart at a point north of Taiwan well away from the coast of China.
"Yes, and then?" replied the Russian.
"Then we wait for a large ship that is going down the Taiwan Strait," said Hendrick.
Golubev questioned him with his eyes for a fleeting moment, then realization flooded his face. "Da!" he said with enthusiasm.
Malik was puzzled. "Why not go straight in for the wreck? Why wait for a ship?"
"The Taiwanese, and probably the Chinese as well, have hydrophone arrays on the sea floor," said Hendrick. "We can mask our noise by tailing a surface ship past the arrays, then peel off and head for the wreck."
"You know where these things are?" asked Malik.
"Well, not exactly, but I'll bet the captain here has a pretty good idea," replied Hendrick as he gestured to the stout Russian. "He used to sail these waters for years when he was employed by the Russian navy."
Malik raised his eyebrows to convey his skepticism. "This is getting stickier and stickier."
"You worry too much, Joe. As long as this piece of shit -" Hendrick gestured around him. " - holds together we'll be all right."
"That's what worries me," said Malik. "You're talking about trying to evade two navies in this bucket of bolts. And if we don't, what happens next? Depth charges?"
Hendrick smiled at his partner. "So it's not a picnic, so what? Nothing worth doing is ever easy. Have we ever done anything that was easy?"
Malik just shook his head and rolled his eyes.
They planned to submerge while well away from the wreck of the Awa Maru, then approach it underwater and perform salvage operations. After a few days they would back away from the wreck to surface and use a snorkel to pump in fresh air to run the diesels and recharge batteries. With some luck they could avoid the Communist Chinese Navy and thus not cut them in on the deal. The same went for the Taiwanese Navy. If they were detected, either navy might drop depth charges on them to force them to the surface. If they had to surface, Golubev and his men would don Russian uniforms and claim they were on a training mission and had suffered an engineering casualty to their engines. Hendrick and the diving crew would stay out of sight. With enough bluster, it might work.
"C'mon, I'll buy you a cup of coffee," said Hendrick and clapped a hand on Malik's shoulder.
They walked down to the mess and poured out two steaming cups of coffee, then lingered next to the coffee pot and blew on the hot drink to get its temperature below scalding levels.
Hendrick's thoughts turned to Maggie Ramsey, and he smiled at the memory of her devouring pizza and gulping beer on the day they had rescued her from the sea. Thoughts of her would intrude every so often when the hectic pace of the salvage operation would slow and he could afford a moment to think about her. He wondered what would have happened in the passageway if he had gone into her room instead of just kiss her once. Maggie's presence filled him again, and he felt the same rush of excitement as he had when she slid into his arms so many months ago.
I wonder what she's doing now, he thought. Probably relaxing on the beach in some exotic locale. He smiled again.
"Miss Ramsey," called a voice out of the darkness. "Miss Ramsey."
Maggie struggled to awaken and forced her eyes open only to see mist in front of her. Her eyes rolled uncontrollably. She jammed her eyes shut as her mind worked at regaining consciousness.
"Miss Ramsey, it's good to have you with us once again," said a female voice from beyond the veil.
Maggie tried to move but couldn't, then she concentrated on taking deep breaths in an effort to get her body going again. She heard a sound nearby, so close that it seemed to be within her, and suddenly realized that she was moaning loudly. The bed underneath her seemed to sway, and rather than let herself go with the swaying world, she tensed her body to compensate for the motion.
"Relax," said the voice soothingly. "Everything will be all right."
Maggie felt a cool hand on her forehead. She dragged her eyes open and steeled herself to the light. The young woman came gradually into focus as Maggie blinked her eyes furiously. The woman, who was so solicitous of her health, was young, thin, and beautiful. She looked Chinese, but her skin seemed darker than a pure Chinese would be. Her clothes fit her tightly, and she wore the common multicolored dress with flower designs and colorful dragons all over it. Maggie stared at her. Maggie's memory began to return. The young woman looked familiar.
"Where -" she began, but the words stuck in her throat. The young woman ran to get a glass of water, and left Maggie staring at one of the light fixtures that hung from the ceiling by a short chain. The room moved under her once again, and the light moved in the opposite direction.
The whole damn room is moving! Maggie struggled to understand what was happening. Her nurse came back with the water and helped her up to a sitting position. Maggie took two large gulps then looked about the room. The woman's identity suddenly snapped into her mind. Li Tai Su, she thought, my nurse and attendant when I was -
Oh, no, she thought.
The door suddenly opened, and two men walked in. One was tall, about six feet, with Asian features. His eyes were rounder than most Asians and he was dressed in a nondescript loose fitting suit that had buttons straight up to his chin. His general demeanor was pleasant including his smile. The other man was also Asian, but less than five feet tall, wearing green combat fatigues with a bright, intricately woven vest over it. His skin was almost black from the sun, and he had a silly grin as wide as his head.
"Well, Miss Ramsey!" exclaimed the taller one with only a trace of a far eastern accent. "Welcome back on board!" He stepped aside and deferentially gave the man next to him more room. "You remember our esteemed leader, I presume." He gestured to the small man.
Maggie jammed her eyes shut in pain at the thought of who these people were. "I know Chang," she said through gritted teeth.
"Lord Chang to you," corrected the tall man in a pleasant manner. He continued effusively. "My name, in case you have forgotten, is Mister Yum. Lord Chang is most pleased to have you on board again. When you left us so abruptly, he was concerned that you might fall into evil hands."
"Oh, I'll bet," replied Maggie. "So, Xu, Lin, and Yee are Chang's men."
"Yes. Lord Chang is ecstatic to find you so easily among the millions in Taiwan," replied Yum. "Lord Chang is also delirious with joy at having as his guest the esteemed daughter of such a towering captain of industry as Fumio Nagata."
"Stepdaughter," snapped Maggie. She gave Chang a look of pure hatred. Look at the little turd, she thought to herself. If his grin gets any wider, the top of his head will fall off. "Yeah, he's delirious all right," replied Maggie. "So how much is he asking for this time?"
"Negotiations are underway at this very moment, but if they fail, as you well know, blond American women, especially naturally blond American women, are extremely rare in this part of the world and command a positively obscene amount of money from buyers," said Yum. He evidently intended his remarks to be taken as a compliment. "There are any number of potential buyers in the area and one in particular in the Sulu Sea who is very interested."
Chang spoke suddenly without losing his tremendous grin, and the tall man quickly gave him his entire attention. Yum translated after Chang was finished.
"Lord Chang has graciously informed me that he will not put a price on you, but will rather have an auction, and we anticipate that the price will go even higher."
"Tell Lord Chang to go fuck himself," said Maggie.
"I certainly will not tell him that for your sake," said Yum pleasantly and with no change in manner. "But mostly for my sake as he would rip me limb from limb if I even translated that to him."
Chang spoke a short sentence that sounded like a question, and the tall man answered with an ebullient reply.
"What's all that about?" asked Maggie.
"Lord Chang asked what you had said, and I told him that you were happy to be back, and that you had accidentally fallen into the sea when you had made your escape months ago," Yum replied.
Maggie shook her head in disgust. "Chang's got to be an idiot to believe all that bullshit."
"Some people think that love makes the world go 'round," said Yum. "On the contrary, it is bullshit that makes the world go 'round."
The young woman, who had been attending Maggie, ran to the other side of the room and got a chair for Chang in response to a monosyllabic order. Chang plopped himself in the chair and stared attentively at Maggie. He spoke a few words to Yum who nodded and looked at Maggie with a broad smile.
"Now, Miss Ramsey, why don't you tell us all about Stephen Hendrick and the Awa Maru," he said pleasantly.
CHAPTER 9
The Awa Maru
THE KURCHATOV
Viktor Golubev leaned over the sonar man and strained to listen in on his man's headphones. They had submerged an hour ago and waited for the telltale screws of a freighter passing by overhead. They were in line with a heavily traveled shipping route listening to cargo-laden ships that came by every few hours. Crews from the Taiwan Navy, and the Chinese Navy as well, were listening on sets of headphones, identical to the ones his sonar man was using, to determine who was near their coastal waters. They would match the sounds from any unidentified vessel with ones stored in their extensive libraries to determine the type of ship and its nationality.
Submarines received special attention due to their status as the ultimate stealth ship. The Taiwanese and Chinese were particularly adept at detecting submarines that ran the Taiwan Strait, and they were also excellent at convincing them to leave the area. All of these facts made Golubev nervous even though the Golf class submarine, as old as it was, was fairly quiet when submerged and running on batteries.
Golubev turned and looked into the expectant eyes of Hendrick who immediately raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question. The older Russian shook his head solemnly and turned back to his sonarman who slowly moved a handwheel back and forth, scanning for sound over a ten degree arc to the north. His movements suddenly became less and less pronounced until he stopped moving the wheel entirely. The sonarman put both hands on his headphones and pressed them to his ears. Golubev moved closer and put his right ear almost on the outside of his man's left earphone.
The sonarman listened for a moment, then nodded and looked at Golubev. The captain made a "gimme" gesture with his hands and took the headphones from his man and placed them over his own ears. He listened for a few seconds then got a slowly increasing smile on his face. Golubev glanced at Hendrick and gave him a quiet thumbs up. The American smiled and nodded in return.
Minutes later, a large freighter sailed by directly overhead with the sounds of its screws conducted through the hull. To Hendrick and the rest, the noise meant safety from detection. Golubev gave the orders and the submarine silently slid under and a bit aft of the freighter, allowing the large ship's acoustics to wash around them and hide their relatively feeble noise from the waiting underwater hydrophones.
Five hours later, following a course given by Hendrick directly to the captain, the submarine left the relative safety of the ship above them and headed to the southwest.
"Captain, communications depth, please," said Hendrick. Golubev obliged and had the sub at the requested depth in a short time.
"Now Captain, please raise your communications antenna," said Hendrick.
But this time Golubev adamantly shook his head. "First, we look," he replied with his index finger raised.
Hendrick nodded while the captain gave out a series of orders. He watched the crew operate together as if they had been sailing together for years.
Golubev issued another brief order, and the periscope tube slid up into position. He flipped the handles down and took a quick three hundred and sixty degree look around the surface. The captain turned in the opposite direction more slowly this time in order to examine the horizon for any ships that might have hostile intent. After several long minutes he was finally satisfied and ordered the periscope retracted.
He gave the order to raise the antenna, then turned to Hendrick. "The antenna is up," he said in Russian.
Hendrick nodded to the captain and pulled an electronic instrument about the size of a cell phone from his pocket. He disconnected its built-in antenna then walked over to the side of the conn near the chart table where a coaxial cable dangled from the overhead. He plugged the cable into the now open coaxial connector on his instrument. He flipped on the power with his thumb and looked at the liquid crystal readout. The Global Positioning System receiver told him their location within ten meters.
Hendrick shielded the numbers from the rest of the crew, except for Joe Malik. Golubev would have looked over their shoulders, but he had been instructed previously to take headings from Hendrick to get to their final position. Both Hendrick and Malik had their doubts whether this arrangement would actually keep their final position from the crew, but they thought that they had to attempt it anyway, just in case they had to come back for another run at the sunken vessel in the future. They didn't want the whole world to know exactly where the ship was located. Hendrick knew the probability of keeping the sunken ship's location from a wily old fox like Golubev was pretty low, but he knew that an exact location was needed to find the old wreck. An approximate one in these mud filled waters wasn't enough.
Hendrick punched the location of the Awa Maru into the GPS receiver, then set the display up to give the heading to their ultimate destination. He turned to Captain Golubev.
"Your heading is two, two, five," said Hendrick.
Golubev gave the order, commanding the boat to slowly make its way to conserve battery power. Hendrick looked at the clock they had set up in the conn to tell them how long they had been submerged. Only thirty hours left of battery charge. He shook his head in frustration. It might take thirty hours just to locate the ship, much less recover anything.
"How are your divers doing?" asked Hendrick quietly as he kept one eye on the GPS receiver readout.
"They'll be ready to go once we get there," replied Malik. "We can get them outside in half an hour."
Hendrick nodded with satisfaction at Malik's preparations. As the dive boss for the expedition, Malik had done all he could to insure safety with his divers. A helium-oxygen mixture, known as heliox, was used instead of air to avoid nitrogen narcosis, the narcotic effect of the nitrogen in pressurized air. The divers would be at about one hundred sixty-five feet below the surface, and Malik had conservatively gone to helium-oxygen instead of a gas mixture with enriched oxygen. Nitrogen-oxygen mixtures are used at depths up to one hundred thirty feet instead of air to balance the nitrogen narcosis and the oxygen toxicity. Because the Awa Maru was below that level, Malik had opted for heliox as a safer alternative.
Hendrick kept his eyes on the GPS receiver and watched with mounting anticipation as the readout showed that their location and the Awa Maru's location were slowly merging. Hendrick gave Golubev a course correction, then after half an hour gave him another. A few minutes later, the liquid crystal readout displayed the same numbers that had been burned into his mind so many months before. His voice shook when he spoke to Golubev.
"Stop engines," said Hendrick. He stared at the display once again to confirm what he hoped was true. After all the frustration, slow moving bureaucracies, vicious pirates, violent storms, and reluctant workers, they had prevailed. He let his breath out in a rush as everyone in the conn looked at him.
The Awa Maru lay directly below them.
Hendrick watched anxiously as a three-man diving team went up through the hatch and into the small chamber that formed the airlock. They all wore wet suits to retain body heat in the relatively cold water at their depth and had dive computers strapped to their wrists. The digital computers displayed current depth, maximum depth, dive time, tank pressure, and temperature. In addition they all had emergency sources of air in "pony" bottles attached to their harnesses. They had powerful battery operated lights clipped to their waist belts along with collapsible probing poles and plastic slates for writing. Normally acoustic devices were used to communicate underwater, but they had rejected them as too easily detected by the Chinese hydrophones and had opted for the writing boards instead. The entire package was bulky and unwieldy until they got into the water and the items floated around them.
The last diver slowly lowered the hatch and gently let it rest on the rim of the opening. Joe Malik quickly spun the wheel sealing the hatch. He got down from the ladder and went to the air controls that were nearby. After a brief check of the gauges, he flipped the switches that simultaneously pumped out the air while pumping in seawater.
Several minutes later, they could hear the outside hatch being opened. Their divers were on their way to first locate the ship, then in subsequent dives to clear away the layers of mud, and finally to retrieve the treasure of the Awa Maru.
Hendrick and Malik had arranged for a team of six experienced divers to join them and to do most of the work. One of the divers, named Ian Howard, was the final addition to the diving team but was clearly the best. Howard, a tall affable Englishman, was substituted for another English diver who had suddenly taken ill at the last minute. Hendrick and Malik felt lucky to have him.
Hendrick, who had dive experience, and Malik, who was a diving expert, would lend the divers a hand from time to time. Malik pumped air back into the airlock and opened the hatch, flinching under the small waterfall of residual seawater as it poured out of the chamber above him.
The two Americans lugged a large pump up the ladder and into the airlock, then shoved as much wide-diameter hose into the chamber as possible. Malik shut the hatch and pumped water in as before. After a few minutes, they heard the outside hatch open and the divers take their mud "vacuum cleaner" out of the airlock.
Malik went over to recheck the decompression chamber installed inside the submarine with great difficulty by the Russian shipyard workers. It was large enough for eight people: the six divers, Malik and Hendrick if need be. Because the atmospheric pressure inside the submarine was the same as at sea level, the divers' decompression would be instantaneous when returning from a dive. They would have to immediately go to the decompression chamber. The chamber allowed the helium gas to dissipate in a diver's bloodstream by gradually decreasing the pressure on the diver over a long period of time. The helium-oxygen mixture required longer decompression times than for air, but Malik had wanted to avoid any toxic reactions from the gas mixture at all costs.
Joe Malik had also insisted on two portable decompression chambers, which were packaged in two relatively small boxes, one box containing the control console and the other, larger box holding the chamber itself. The chamber was packaged like a Jack-In-The-Box and would hold one man.
Hendrick and Malik had installed one additional decompression chamber for emergencies by attaching it to the outside hull, but wouldn't need it if everything went right. In an emergency, the divers could decompress in the external chamber then quickly make their way inside the submarine without having much gas dissolve in the bloodstream during the short trip from the external chamber to the interior of the vessel.
The divers established a search pattern radiating outward from the submarine as it lay on the bottom of the sea, and began the search in sectors out to a distance of three hundred meters, or almost a thousand feet. It quickly became a slow, laborious process, but thoroughness, Malik felt, was better than jumping about and trusting to luck. They couldn't use sonar to do any seabed mapping as they had done before. The sonar sounds would be a dead giveaway of their presence and their location as well. Magnetometers were ruled out also due to the proximity of the submarine's hull. The divers had to locate the sunken wreck the old fashioned way: by poking around through the muck.
For the next twenty-four hours, the divers, hampered by low visibility caused by the large amount of silt in the water, tried to find the Awa Maru with no success. They quickly found a large mound of mud to one side of the submarine, the kind of mass in the seabed that a sunken ship would make. Excitement grew until the divers determined that it was only a rock formation and not the long sought Japanese freighter.
Hendrick and Joe Malik watched the time go by in frustration. The captain, with a worried eye on his battery charge, cut back on the lighting and all electrical loads. The air became stale and seemed to perfectly mirror the dimly lit interior. The atmosphere in the sub turned to gloom along with their hopes of a quick find of the sunken ship. Hendrick had the sinking feeling that finding a wreck, when one is almost totally blind, would be very difficult indeed, even with good GPS coordinates to rely upon.
Malik gave Hendrick a decisive look. "All right. I'm calling it. One more dive, then we go get a recharge on our batteries."
Hendrick nodded and looked at his watch. In a few hours, night would fall. They could then move from the area and surface with lessened risk of detection.
Malik jerked his thumb over his shoulder down the corridor. "The last team that came back didn't find anything." One three-man team had entered the decompression chamber, and the second team was resting, waiting for the next dive. Hendrick nodded with the moderate level of disappointment they had become accustomed to throughout the long day. Hendrick picked up the search chart and scanned it for the areas they had already covered. In over twenty-four hours they had covered only about ten percent of the area. At that rate it would take them nine more days to cover the entire area. He knew he had to be patient, but he wasn't. He closed his eyes and tried to visualize where they were in relation to the wreck. The sonar image of the sunken ship played in his mind, and he placed the submarine at various positions relative to the ship. One of the positions felt better than the rest. He opened his eyes and pointed to a sector on the chart that was on the opposite side of the sub to the area already covered.
"We should look here," he said to Malik.
His partner screwed up his face in annoyance. "What's this? Another inspiration?" He knew Hendrick operated more from instinct than from a set plan. "You know, every time you pull this instinct crap, you're right only twenty-five percent of the time. You'd do better if you flipped a coin, or threw darts at the chart."
"Yeah, but when I'm right, it's a beautiful thing to behold," replied Hendrick with a grin.
Hendrick pointed to the chart once again and made a circle around the sector he wanted to search. Malik knew better than to argue for long.
"All right. All right," he said in surrender. "Let's get you into a wet suit so you can get out there once at least."
"Once? You always were an optimist, Joe," said Hendrick as he walked over to the room that housed the divers' equipment. He walked in, joining Ian Howard, in preparation for the dive. Malik wanted to match Hendrick up with the best diver of the group to keep his partner out of trouble.
A little while later, Hendrick, Howard and a third diver came out of the room dressed in their wet suits and already breathing the heliox. Malik ushered them up into the airlock and carefully closed the hatch beneath them. Moments later, the chamber began to fill with the chilled water from the Taiwan Strait. The airlock filled slowly to lessen the noise generation, and it took a full two minutes to evacuate the air and pump the small room full with water.
The water went to the ceiling without hesitation in an inexorable flow, leaving only a few bubbles sticking stubbornly to the edges of the overhead hatch. Hendrick stood halfway and turned the wheel to open the outside hatch. He braced himself with his legs and pushed the heavy metal lid upward and outward. He half expected that the hatch would squeak on its hinges, but it remained silent until it hit the end of its travel, emitting a dull sound as the hatch hit its stops. Hendrick nodded to himself. Joe Malik was right to grease the hinges before they left port.
Hendrick pushed himself upward and felt himself get free of the submarine and its confining interior. The sea around him, however, was pitch black. It was twilight and little light penetrated to his depth. Although underwater diving produced claustrophobic reactions in many people, he had never felt that way while swimming through the open sea. He did have a few misgivings when inside the close quarters of a sunken wreck. Maybe it has something to do with divers, spearguns, and shark attacks, he thought suddenly. The horrifying incident at the wreck of the Han Gao tried to surface in his mind, but he refused to give in to it.
Howard cleared the hatch and immediately switched on his light, illuminating the murky world around them. Hendrick pulled his light around from its holding place under his tanks and switched it on also, giving more form to the silt filled water that brushed by them at a speed of two knots. Hendrick estimated the visibility at ten feet. Ian Howard grabbed Hendrick's arm and pointed downward. Hendrick nodded and followed him to the where the search lines had been set up.
The first divers who had been sent out had set up ropes that radiated outward from the submarine forming the search area for the Awa Maru. The ropes were necessary to prevent divers from getting lost in the limited visibility. Each rope extended outward about a thousand feet supported at periodic intervals by metal poles with wide flat stands that wouldn't sink into the mud. The rope was terminated by a metal pole driven into the seabed.
Each sector was identified by flags strung from the ropes with letters printed on them so a diver would know at all times exactly where he was. The flags also had numbers on them, indicating the distance from the submarine itself. As an additional precaution, the third diver snapped lines to their harnesses, which unwound from reels attached to the submarine. That diver also stayed with the reels to insure that the lines didn't get snagged. In addition he was in a good position to call for help if an emergency arose.
Hendrick and Howard picked up the mud vacuum cleaner, then worked their way to the port side of the submarine and located the sector that Hendrick wanted to try. They began the methodical work of poking about with long metal poles to determine what was hidden below the thick mud that coated everything in the Taiwan Strait. They worked the thirty-foot width of the sector with increasing efficiency and after fifteen minutes they were making good progress. Several times they struck objects in the mud and excitedly started up the cleaner to pull away the mud, pumping it toward the stern of the sub and allowing the current to slowly take it away from their search area. Each time, however, they found a rock.
They reached the end of the guide ropes and Hendrick felt disappointment surge within him. In his mind he could hear Joe Malik ranting about following Hendrick's instinct and not methodically searching the area from one end to the other. He stared into the darkness beyond the marked off search area and lifted his light up to pierce the black water. The familiar sight of floating silt greeted him and in the distance he saw a wall of mud. He squinted at it then grabbed Ian Howard by the arm. Howard looked in the direction Hendrick pointed then gave him a surprised look. They both scrambled over to inspect the object in the distance.
The sea floor rose up thirty feet and extended on either side as far as their lights would penetrate. They got to the top of the mound and began probing with their metal poles. On the third try Hendrick's pole hit something hard under the mud, but he refused to let his emotions jump, and routinely set about clearing the mud away from the object. He shoved the intake tube of the mud pump into the silt with a vengeance and in a few minutes he was down to the hard object beneath the mud. Howard pointed his light down the small canyon they had made in the silt. Hendrick kept working the intake tube around until he had cleared an area a yard in diameter. He squinted at it in the harsh beam from Howard's light. The object was flat and smooth. Hope leaped up in him like a skyrocket, although he kept telling himself that rocks can be gray, flat, and smooth also.
Hendrick worked the intake tube of the mud pump quickly and methodically, widening the area until the front edge of the tube hit an obstruction. Hendrick cleared the mud away like a madman, then stared at the object below him as Howard played his light over it. The obstacle he had hit with the intake tube was an edge that protruded up from the smooth flat surface. Hendrick pulled off his glove and felt the protrusion as well as the flat surface. He was sure that it was metal. He worked to clear the mud away from the other side of the protruding edge and quickly found that the flat surface ended at the edge with nothing else beyond it.
Hendrick didn't know whether to be disappointed, or elated. What was this thing? He worked his way along the edge, clearing the mud until he hit another piece of metal that extended horizontally outward from the flat surface. He cleared the mud from around this next object and gaped at the first recognizable shape they had found during their search. The object was long, thin, and round and was attached to something below the flat surface.
It was a post that had held lifelines, which had run along the edge of the deck! Hendrick backed away from his find as he suddenly visualized the entire ship lying below him.
They had found the Awa Maru.
CHAPTER 10
The Vault
Steve Hendrick looked over the image of the Awa Maru created many months ago by sonar. It clearly showed that the ship had broken in two with the two halves settling into the shape of a T. Hendrick had been lucky enough to find the aft section, and after the uneventful recharging of their batteries in the middle of the Taiwan Strait, they began searching for the bow half of the wreck. Based on the sonar image and the orientation of the stern half, they knew exactly where to look for the forward half of the ship.
They found it in two dives and began the arduous process of clearing away enough mud to enter the vessel. The excitement among the divers was palpable, and it rubbed off on their Russian crew. They began to sing a particularly boisterous song in loud voices until a mortified Captain Golubev hushed them up with some well-chosen Russian epithets, which Hendrick couldn't follow.
Hendrick and Malik had decided some months before on a salvage plan for the vessel, and based on information from several sources, some of it tenuous at best, they had determined the location of the most valuable treasure on the ship. They speculated that the forty tons of gold reported to be on the ship, was in cargo hold Number Four in the aft section. While that was one of their prime targets, the initial priority was the smaller treasure such as diamonds and other precious stones that could be easily carried away. First, they reasoned, pay for the expedition's expenses then go for the profit, although the supposed one hundred fifty thousand carats that were on board would easily pay the freight and make them rich besides.
They had prioritized the order in which they were going to search for each type of valuable with diamonds and jewelry first, then the gold, platinum, and silver. Even the strange treasure of the fossilized remains of the Peking Man, found in China and first identified as a fossilized human by Davidson Black in 1927, made the list, but was near the bottom. Also near the bottom of the list was the reputed many tens of millions of dollars in U.S. bank notes, the condition of which was highly suspect after over sixty years of submersion in the sea. Certainly the diamonds and the gold would be in the best condition, and these were the prime targets of their initial search.
The information on the Awa Maru told of five safes, constructed just prior to the ship's sailing that held some of the most important treasure. Hendrick and Malik speculated that these were in the forward section of the ship and that they held the diamonds and other jewelry. Accordingly the divers homed in on locating the purser's cabin and its vault, which had supposedly held the mysterious safes.
The forward section of the ship was lying on its starboard side, which left its top decks buried even deeper in mud. Hendrick estimated where the purser's cabin was and ordered the divers to excavate mud in that area. In two days of toil they had dug an enormous cone-shaped hole in the silt, enough to clear a passage to the ship's top deck and a hatch, which led to the decks below. Hendrick demanded to be the first one to go below deck in the Awa Maru and Joe Malik acquiesced. He knew better than to go against his friend when he had his mind made up.
Hours later Steve Hendrick swam toward the forward section of the wreck of the Awa Maru with anticipation mounting in him. The water was filled with silt, making the divers' lights in the distance seem dim and excessively remote, but Hendrick followed the lifelines strung between the sub's outside hatch and the salvage site to insure that he wouldn't get lost. Hendrick approached the divers and waved to them, but the cavern they had dug in the sea bottom made his breath catch in his throat. The hole in the mud was lit with bright lights from the other divers and looked like an entry to hell itself. The ship formed an enormous mound on the bottom of the sea two to three hundred feet long for just the forward section itself and some sixty to seventy feet high. And now there was a hole near one end of the mound twenty feet wide and over ten feet deep. One diver was working their mud vacuum cleaner around the walls of the hole to prevent the mud from sliding down and covering the opening they had created.
Hendrick refused to ask himself why the sight of the hole in the sea bottom unnerved him, sending a ripple of fear through him. I guess I already know the answer, he thought ruefully. He hesitated for a moment, trying to get used to the idea of entering the hole to get inside the ship and hoping that the thought of a fortune in diamonds and precious stones would help him overcome his reluctance. Then there was his father's incomplete mission. Would he recognize what his father had claimed to have had in his hands so long ago? The odds are against it, he thought. But he admitted that the elder Hendrick's mission had inspired him to get this far. He wished his brother was with him.
One of the divers clipped one end of a roll of line to a D ring on his harness. The line would play out as he made his way through the ship. He would use it on his return to find his way out from the interior of the wreck. What they were about to do was exceedingly dangerous. Entering a sunken ship was not something to be undertaken lightly, and they all knew it. They all knew of someone who had died doing exactly what they were about to do. The ship could shift and cover up the exit. Hendrick's line could part, leaving him to trial and error to find his way out. Many divers in similar circumstances had run out of air while groping around for a passage leading outside a sunken ship. Shifting wreckage could injure a diver or cut his air supply leaving him helpless, or to drown quickly before help could get to him.
Hendrick knew it all - Joe Malik had told him over and over again - and he also knew he would enter the ship anyway. Ian Howard, the diver who was with Hendrick when they had first located the ship, tapped him on the shoulder and gave him a thumbs up sign to ask if everything was all right. Hendrick nodded in exaggerated fashion and returned a thumbs up. Howard would follow Hendrick into the interior of the ship to assist him and to watch his back. The other three divers waited outside to assist, or to form a rescue team if needed. Hendrick moved toward the hole while the diver with the mud cleaner moved back to allow him access. Hendrick pushed with his flippers to nearly invert himself and pointed his light into the hole in the mud. He could see a hatch at the bottom, which had been pried open by the other divers. Hendrick shined his light into the hatch and saw nothing but blackness beyond.
He swallowed quickly and thrust himself toward the open hatch with a scissors kick. He glided smoothly, continually adjusting his trajectory to put himself through the lower half of the opening, allowing the upper half for his tanks to clear the hatch rim. Hendrick glided through, then abruptly put on the brakes to keep himself from slamming into a bulkhead. He played his light about and saw that he was in a passageway that led fore and aft.
Ian Howard was next to him moments later, and together they surveyed the corridor. Hendrick pointed forward, and Howard nodded. Not much sea growth was evident, and to Hendrick's relief the water remained fairly clear of mud. They proceeded down the passageway and tried to get used to the corridor appearing wider than it was high due to the ship lying on its side. As they kicked slowly and drove themselves ahead, the light from their underwater lamps groped forward dissipating into the distant blackness. The light began to reflect from something ahead, and after a moment they saw that the corridor made a ninety-degree turn downward toward the sea bed.
It's a corridor athwartships, Hendrick thought. It will lead to the center of the ship and maybe the purser's cabin. They got to the end of the corridor and Hendrick hesitated whether to go down toward the middle of the ship or go straight through a doorway where a number of staterooms were located. Did my father walk along this passageway? Through this door? Where was he when he had it in his hands? What was it? Hendrick felt inexplicably drawn to the staterooms. Is that where my father's mission lay?
Howard tugged on his arm and broke his reverie. Hendrick made a downward turn and headed toward the center of the ship, leaving the staterooms behind. Will I ever get answers to what drove my father to this place?
The two divers headed straight down the passage examining each door and hatch that led off the passage for the purser office. Heading downward in an almost vertical position took some getting used to. The blood started to pound in Hendrick's ears as they neared the centerline of the ship. The Awa Maru, by any account was heavily laden on its last voyage with both its massive cargo and over two thousand passengers. Hendrick wondered why they hadn't seen many human remains. Did most of them have time to jump overboard?
Howard shined his light down the aft bulkhead of the corridor and illuminated a half open hatch. The hatch was being held open by something stick like in appearance, but Hendrick knew what it was with just a glance. They arrived next to the hatch and stared at the partial skeleton that held the hatch open. Flesh and most of the clothes were long gone, but the mud encasement of the wreck had provided enough protection to keep some of the bones intact.
Hendrick swam up to the hatch and put his hand on the metal door, then looked directly at the skull that stared up at him with its sightless, gaping holes. A mixture of feelings ran through him. He knew the presence of this ship here at the bottom of the sea was a true tragedy of wartime, yet he found it difficult to envision the skull, just a foot away from him, wrapped in flesh and blood and holding unique life within it. The position of the skeleton in the doorway suggested that the door had slammed closed on him, but his body kept the door open enough for the water to enter. This is all ancient history, isn't it, he asked himself. It all happened a long, long time ago.
He looked up at Howard then braced one flippered foot against the bulkhead and leaned his body into the metal door. The hinges creaked and groaned in protest, but the door yielded under Hendrick's determined assault. He barged his way in, then swung his light around to view inside the room.
A host of bones were piled in one end of the room. Here and there some shoes and scraps of fabric were seen. Gravity had dragged them down to rest on the starboard bulkhead which now formed the floor of the space. Hendrick and Howard played their garish lights over the remains as they considered what the victims' final moments must have been like. Hendrick could imagine them congregating in the room as the ship rolled to starboard after the four huge explosions from the Queenfish's torpedoes. There must have been panic, people screaming and getting sick from what they knew was going to happen.
My father was here, on this ship, in the middle of hell, he thought. A surge of sadness ran through him. He had never really gotten to know his father, but he had increased respect for the elder Hendrick after seeing where he had been.
Hendrick glanced back toward the skeleton in the doorway. Did they slam the door on him in their frenzied efforts to keep the sea away from them? Was he trying to get out, to get up on deck, to jump free of the ship? To what end? Most of the survivors of the Awa Maru refused the lifelines thrown to them by the crew of the Queenfish. They swam away to die what they thought to be an honorable death. Would the man caught in the doorway have taken the line thrown to him by the U.S. sailors? Or was his escape attempt all for naught, trapped in a sinking ship, water rising to engulf him, taking his breath away?
Hendrick was suddenly aware of the mass of the ship around him, especially above him, and he felt a sudden surge of claustrophobia. He closed his eyes and a mass of memories assaulted his mind.
He had swung his knife out in front of him, slashing away at their attackers. They wanted to back him up to get room to fire another volley of spears at him. He couldn't let them do that and he closed with the three remaining divers. His knife found soft flesh. He slashed and mangled in a frenzy, the water turning red around them.
He swung his knife again, the blade sliding across his enemy's neck, the face of his nightmares floating in the void before him. He cocked his arm back for another swing at his enemy, but before he could deliver the next blow, another diver rapidly approached intent upon Hendrick's murder. The other diver never reached him, a violent yank on his body made him accelerate in the opposite direction. Hendrick glanced at him, seeing that his head was gone. Another gave a gurgling scream, his light playing in a panic around the close inside of the ship, the flickering light mirroring their struggles. The lights went out leaving them in darkness with the hellish, mindless things intent on their death. Hendrick felt a huge, thick body next to him. It was moving spasmodically, jerking as he imagined the jaws doing their terrifying job. Rending, slashing, tearing.
Howard grabbed Hendrick's arms and stuck his facemask directly in front of Hendrick's face. Howard shook him as hard as he could, then gave him a wide grin which was distorted by his mouthpiece.
Hendrick opened his eyes and immediately locked onto Howard's face, the moment of possible panic passing. Howard picked up his white writing board and showed it to Hendrick. On it, Howard had the Japanese characters for ship's purser in stark, black grease pencil. Howard turned and pointed across the room, then looked back at Hendrick and pointed at the character on the writing board.
Hendrick slowly shook off his memories and began to swim toward the door on the far side of the room. He pulled up his board and held it next to the Japanese character that was painted on the door. The character had faded over time but he could still make it out. He compared about half the lines when he decided that it was a match and began tugging on the door. The door gave in quickly, Hendrick quickly scrambling through the opening.
A couple of desks were in a pile on the starboard side along with some bones and a jawless skull that still looked out across the room. Hendrick had the fleeting thought that it was the ship's purser and that he was still guarding the treasures within the Awa Maru. He swung his light around and played it over the aft bulkhead in the room. The breath caught in his throat as he stared at a heavy, armored door. The door was the kind he had expected for a ship's vault with a large wheel to operate the bolts in the door and the smaller dial of the combination lock.
Hendrick turned to Howard and hooted in his mouthpiece and shook his fist with excitement. Howard gave him a thumbs up and swam to the door to try the lock. After a long minute, he turned to Hendrick and shrugged.
Hendrick directed his light to the floor of the room where it met the starboard bulkhead. The bulkhead seemed to be pushed back from the deck forming an open seam. He swam over and threw one of the desks out of the way.
Hendrick shined his light into the gaping hole in the deck and saw that the ship was damaged greatly below their deck. He stuck his head through the hole, looked about, and saw what he considered to be a miracle. The vault room floor had been ripped apart, a large crack running the width of the room. They could enter the vault room by swimming through the hole in the deck and into the space below the vault room, then squeeze through the split in the steel floor. Hendrick waved excitedly to Howard and swam ahead.
They both gingerly swam through the crack in the vault floor, then played their lights about in a chaotic, excited pattern. Hendrick forced himself to calm down and to methodically search the room for anything that looked like the mythical safes that were supposed to contain the diamonds. The room was empty.
Disappointment immediately swept away the euphoria of finding the vault room. He fought the feeling down with only partial success and swam downward to get to the room's starboard side. Anything that was in the room would have shifted to starboard. Hendrick gazed at the starboard bulkhead for a few seconds and was puzzled at the brown, uneven surface, looking like the seabed itself.
He quickly pulled out his retractable metal probe and plunged it into the silt. The mud gave increasing resistance, but he felt nothing that would stop the pole completely such as an intact bulkhead. Hendrick felt a hand on his arm.
Howard pointed to his dive computer, which he had strapped to his forearm. Their dive was nearly over. They had agreed on an amount of time that they would spend in decompression after the dive was completed, and the dive computer was showing that they were nearing that limit. Hendrick had the urge to disregard Howard, but he didn't want to spend the next two days in the decompression chamber. Every added minute required many tens of minutes added to the decompression time. And no diver ignored the decompression times - he wanted to survive to enjoy the treasure, if they ever found any. There would be time for more dives.
Hendrick reluctantly turned to follow Howard out of the vault room. He stopped and played his light around the space one more time. Was the whole damn ship empty? he thought with rising frustration.
His eyes caught the reflected light of a rough metallic edge in the middle of the aft wall of the vault. He swam over, leaving Howard behind, and stared at a hole in the wall that had been obviously cut with a torch leaving blobs of molten metal around the edge of the roughly rectangular window. He shined his light through the hole and squinted at the reflection of the light from the dirt and sea life suspended around him.
A smear of red to his left caught his immediate attention. He swung the light around to illuminate what turned out to be a piece of red cloth. Hendrick gaped at the rectangular material, realization roaring through him like a tidal wave.
It was the flag of the People's Republic of China. The Chinese had been there before him.
CHAPTER 11
Gold
Joe Malik stared at the red flag Hendrick had given him after returning from his last dive. The flag was made of some kind of plastic material so that it would last many years within the sunken ship. The Chinese had obviously wanted to let future salvage operators know who had found the ship before them.
Steve Hendrick walked up to stand next to his friend and partner after just finishing his two hours in the decompression chamber.
"You think they got it all?" asked Malik in a subdued voice. He felt, rather than saw, Hendrick shake his head.
"We're never going to know unless we look over the whole ship," replied Hendrick. "The news reports back in the late seventies and early eighties had the Chinese claiming that they never found anything. They found some human remains and some personal effects which they returned to the Japanese, but they had always claimed that they had never found any treasure."
"They could have lied."
"Yeah, they could have," answered Hendrick and let out an explosive sigh. "Or they could have told the truth. They admitted to the world that their underwater technique wasn't very good."
"You don't suppose -" began Malik, then let his voice trail off.
Hendrick read his mind. "No, I don't suppose," he replied angrily. He knew Malik referred to some researchers who claimed that there never was any treasure on the Awa Maru. One had even gone to the extent of reviewing recently declassified Japanese messages intercepted by U.S. forces during World War II. He had claimed that no reference in those messages between the ship and Japanese headquarters was ever made to any treasure carried by the Awa Maru. Malik would bring up the possibility rarely, and Hendrick would always insist that the treasure was aboard as the ever increasing legend claimed. Hendrick instinctively knew that he had always used the treasure as an excuse to interest others in salvaging the Awa Maru. Without the treasure, he would be left alone to discover his father's mission.
Malik decided to change the subject. "What's this business of the starboard bulkhead being covered with mud?"
The question set Hendrick to thinking about how that much mud could have gotten inside the vault room up on B deck. He told Malik about the probing with the stick and how it didn't contact anything but mud.
"Maybe the bulkhead is no longer there," mused Malik. "Maybe a torpedo blew the bulkhead apart, then when it rolled to starboard and sank, the open side of the vault room buried itself in the sea bottom."
Hendrick's mouth popped open as an idea formed in his mind. He gave Malik an excited look. Malik had seen looks like this many times before, and he knew Hendrick had come up with something. As his partner had told him previously, his intuition was a beautiful thing to behold.
"When the ship rolled to starboard, the safes fell out while momentum kept the ship going forward," said Hendrick in a hushed voice. He didn't want anyone to overhear them.
"I guess we can kiss them goodbye," said Malik. "Finding them is going to be impossible."
Hendrick glanced over his shoulder, then gave him a conspiratorial look. "I think we've already found them."
Malik gave him a strained look. "What? How?"
Hendrick pulled out the sonar image of the Awa Maru and pointed to the penciled-in X's he had made months before. "Remember those magnetometer readings we took, showing metallic objects strung out in a line from the wreck. We couldn't figure out what they were. We thought maybe they were debris from the ship. They're debris all right. Debris filled with diamonds!"
Malik shook his head and wasn't convinced, but he knew that they would have to check out the locations of those objects. And who knew? Maybe Hendrick and his intuition would hit a home run again.
"Don't tell anyone about this," said Hendrick, his voice going lower. "I'll use the ROV, while the rest of the divers go over the stern section."
Malik nodded to Hendrick. Where sunken treasure was concerned, it paid to have a few secrets.
Two days later, after another uneventful recharging of the submarine's batteries in the middle of the strait, the divers had gained entrance to Hold Number Five in the aft section of the ship, and had found tons of still baled rubber and an equal amount of tin. Although the tin was not corroded to the extent one might expect after over sixty years on the bottom of the sea, the rubber was clearly unusable. Some large salvage crew might make use of the metal, but they were after much more valuable, and smaller, objects. The divers got ready to enter Hold Number Four which was just forward of the larger Hold Number Five.
Hendrick, meanwhile, maneuvered the ROV from the control station they had set up in a former ammunition space. The ROV, or remotely operated vehicle, was towing a magnetometer to accurately determine the location of the metal objects.
Hendrick kept a close eye on the magnetometer readout as he let the ROV wander the sea bottom. He had programmed a search pattern into the control computer, but had only estimated the direction and speed of the underwater current. Even a current of one knot could greatly distort the pattern the small sub would actually travel. He knew he should measure the current, but he decided that it would take too long. He also had to wonder if he could find the safes in the presence of the large metal submarine, but he hoped that the safes would have enough metal in them to override the background distortion of the earth's magnetic field caused by the submarine.
He had been staring at the magnetic readout for four hours now and knew he should take a break. He hated to quit until Joe Malik was done his dive, which was set to enter Hold Number Four. After decompression Joe could relieve him and stare at the liquid crystal numbers that bounced over a small range as the ROV swam across the bottom of Taiwan Strait.
Hendrick yawned and almost missed the increasing oscillation of the magnetometer voltage just before the reading over ranged and illuminated all the segments of the display. The voltmeter sent out a warning beep and automatically went to a higher range of voltage as Hendrick's yawn hit its peak, causing his eyes to water and close, and greatly diminishing his hearing.
His yawn ended, Hendrick looked around him with tear-filled eyes. He blinked furiously until his vision cleared. The voltmeter beeped again as it went to another higher range of voltage. The low audio tone set Hendrick bolt upright in his chair. His eyes locked onto the magnetometer reading, the number displayed not registering in his mind as much as the range to which the voltmeter had set itself.
The voltmeter beeped twice more before the readout began to slowly drop. Hendrick activated a control switch, dropping a marker from the ROV to allow divers to more easily locate the object later.
Hendrick ran his fingers through his hair. Now, let's hope it's not just a chunk of the hull, he thought.
Joe Malik led Ian Howard and a group of three divers toward the hole in the mud they had dug to allow them access to Hold Number Four. They had labored for hours to pry open the topside cargo hatch, and they placed some expandable jacks in the opening to keep the hatch from slamming shut on them in case the ship shifted.
They were near the end of their dive, but Malik and Howard couldn't resist a peek inside before going back to the submarine. They swam through the narrow crack formed by the edge of the hatch and the hatch cover, and experienced the strange feeling as the sides of the ship fell away into the darkness, giving him the impression of entering an impossibly large space. The beams from their lights fell into the distance, showing only the small particles of dirt floating in the water. Malik concentrated on swimming straight ahead to get to the bottom of the hold as quickly as possible.
The bottom came up more quickly than he expected in a jumble of shapes that formed the irregular destination of their journey. They finally recognized the shapes as boxes colored brown by a thin layer of silt that had filtered through the cracks in the hull. The crates had been stacked neatly in the hold over half a century before and had tumbled to form a confused mass of wood as the ship rolled to starboard just seconds after the four torpedoes had slammed into its side.
Howard selected a crate that had fallen in a nearly horizontal position and pulled a small pry bar from the tools around his waist. He waved the water near the top of the crate, clearing away the mud and saw a large cross painted on the lid. The red had turned to brown, but enough remained to show him that these were the legendary red cross crates that had been loaded into the ship's holds by a large group of Japanese soldiers the night before the ship sailed from Singapore.
He jammed the flat end of the tool under a seam between the lid and the sides of the crate. He pressed downward and the lid popped up easily as the nearly rusted-through nails pulled out of the sides of the crate. One of the sides fell away, revealing small box-like shapes, which were narrower at the top than at the bottom.
Malik's heart skipped a beat as he picked up one of the objects feeling its weight and surface hardness. He rubbed at the top of the object, working away at six decades of grime and revealed a metallic shine. Howard maneuvered his light around and shined it directly on the clean spot. The reflected light had a distinctly yellow tinge to it.
Malik's mind froze. All the years of wanting, waiting, planning, and scheming had been swept away in a single instant. His association with Steve Hendrick had been a question mark in his mind for some time now. How much longer would he tag after the younger, more impulsive man? Would Hendrick slow him down from real undersea exploration, which was his enduring passion? The questions were drowned in a sea of adrenaline that exploded through Malik's bloodstream.
Joe Malik held the ingot over his head and hooted into his mouthpiece so hard it almost popped out of his mouth.
They had found the gold of the Awa Maru.
"Steve, get a load of this," said Joe Malik who slid quickly down the ladder from the hatch. He reached inside a bag strapped to his diving harness, then quickly shoved a gold bar under Hendrick's nose.
Hendrick's eyes grew wide, then he took the bar of gold into both his hands and gaped at it as a wide grin shot across his face. He grabbed his partner in a bear hug, and they both danced around the confined space. Discovery of the gold was the culmination of a dream that had begun five years before. Hendrick let his skinny partner go and looked over the gold bar once again.
"How many more of these are down there?" he asked in an emotional voice.
Malik gave him a wide grin. "The starboard side of Hold Four is covered with them."
Hendrick looked around conspiratorially. "Let's not let anyone else see this. No sense in getting our Russian friends all excited. They still don't know exactly what we're looking for. And I'd rather keep it from them as long as I can. And you, my friend, have got to get into that decompression chamber right now, or else you won't live to spend any of this." He turned Malik around and shoved him toward the open hatch of the chamber where Howard and three other grinning divers were waiting for him to join them.
"There's a problem," said Malik who had returned to his partner's side after the long hours of decompression. Hendrick looked at him briefly with a grin still on his face.
"We were hoping that we could bring the gold aboard while still in their crates, and some are still okay, but most of the Red Cross boxes containing the gold are falling apart," said Malik. "We'll have to take each bar out individually and bring it through the airlock."
Hendrick's grin faded. "The winch we have in the airlock can't lower the crates through the hatch?"
"The crates are too big to fit through the hatch," said Malik. "We'll never keep what we found secret from the crew."
"We've got them isolated forward and aft with the center section of the sub for us," said Hendrick. "That won't do it?"
"Steve, think of the time it will take," replied Malik. "There's thousands of gold bars down there."
Hendrick's grin returned. "Yeah," he said, elongating the word.
"We've got to find a way to get the gold aboard faster," said Malik.
A thoughtful expression replaced Hendrick's enthusiastic grin. "Okay, what are the ways to get in and out of the ship?"
"The airlock hatch, the hatch down from the sail, the two escape hatches, forward and aft -" began Malik.
"The torpedo tubes," said Hendrick, his grin returning.
Both men ran off to find Captain Golubev. Two minutes later, they rattled off their request to use the torpedo tubes to load cargo onto the submarine.
"It's an interesting idea," said Golubev who scratched his head. "We could use the hydraulic ram to pull the material aboard. It might work. I'll get some men on it right away."
Hendrick and Malik nodded in unison. "Thank you, Captain," they said together.
"You have found what you were looking for? Yes?" said Golubev as he studied the faces of both men. "I would like to know what you are bringing on my ship."
"Captain, we have found something," replied Hendrick. "But our agreement states that we can keep our findings away from you as long as we agree not to bring on board anything that would be hazardous to the vessel or the crew. I can assure you that this is not hazardous in any way."
Golubev was silent for a moment. Hendrick hoped he was clearly remembering the agreement that he and Malik had made them sign before setting sail. The crew had even agreed to leave the ship entirely after docking on a yet-to-be-revealed island, so that Hendrick and the others could unload their salvaged material without revealing to the crew what it was.
Golubev nodded thoughtfully, then frowned as he hit a snag. "Of course, you know that opening the torpedo doors will create noise."
"Don't do it when anyone's around," Hendrick shot back with a huge smile.
Golubev shrugged his shoulders and nodded.
Hours later Hendrick and Malik waited in the forward torpedo room for the crate of gold from the divers outside the boat. One of Golubev's crew had instructed them in operation of the hydraulic ram that loaded torpedoes into the tube. The ram also worked in reverse to pull torpedoes out of the tube if they hadn't been fired. Joe Malik had instructed the divers to initially pick only the crates that were in good condition and appeared strong enough to survive being handled. Later they would be reduced to picking up individual bars of gold and transporting them back to the sub.
The crew was curious and had crowded around the watertight door that led into the forward torpedo room, but Hendrick and Malik, assisted by Golubev, had chased them away. The two Americans, as well as the divers, tried to conceal their excitement, but the Russian crew felt it anyway. They knew the Americans had found something extremely valuable.
Joe Malik gave Steve Hendrick a glance and Hendrick nodded. Malik hit the switch that flooded one of the torpedo tubes on the starboard side and anxiously listened to the seawater rush in to fill the void. The gurgling tapered off and a light came on telling them that the tube was full of water. Malik hit another switch that rotated the large metal outer door of the tube around to open it to the sea.
Both of them imagined the divers struggling to get the case of gold into the tube. Malik had all but one diver out so that they could load as much gold as possible in the time left before another battery charging interval, reasoning that the divers could decompress while they recharged batteries. They only had a few hours left before they would have to leave and go into the middle of Taiwan Strait.
They had activated three mini-submarines, which had been stored on the exterior hull, to haul the extremely heavy gold bars from the Awa Maru to the submarine. The divers would place a load of gold on a minisub and adjust the buoyancy such that the loaded minisub would float at the desired height above the seabed. They switched on the minisub's powerful twin props and rode with the gold over to the submarine's bow. By adjusting the buoyancy again, they aligned the minisub at the same level as the torpedo tube. They anchored the minisub to the submarine so that it wouldn't shoot to the surface after the gold was unloaded then struggled to slide the load of gold into the torpedo tube.
Hendrick and Malik heard a telltale clunking and scraping of the crate sliding along the bottom surface of the torpedo tube, then came the two muffled raps on the hull that signaled that the divers were done.
Malik closed the outer door of the tube, then activated the pumps that sent the water in the tube back into the sea. Several agonizing moments later Malik was able to open the tube's inner door, and Hendrick and Malik got their first close look of the treasure they had sought for so long. Hendrick leaned forward into the tube and gingerly touched the waterlogged case. He grinned from ear to ear then threw the custom harness they had rigged up around the case. He got out of the way and gave Malik a thumbs up. Malik activated the ram and pulled the case out of the tube.
They both stared at the case for a moment, dumbstruck at what they knew was inside. Hendrick got a hammer and used the claw end to pry up the lid. The nails gave way with a squawk, and Hendrick pulled the lid up with enthusiasm. Malik quickly picked up a brown coated bar and rubbed it with a towel to clean it off. He quickly had the top surface of the ingot gleaming. Their mouths popped open at the realization that a mind-boggling fortune was at their fingertips.
"You know, when I was a kid," said Hendrick, "the nuns in my school always told us that God loves us. Now I'm sure of it."
Joe Malik's face cracked into the biggest grin Hendrick had ever seen on his wiry partner. They hugged each other and did a little jig on the deck. Hendrick wanted to shout out loud with joy, but he restrained himself. The less noise the better, and he didn't want to further stir the imagination of the Russian crew. Malik burst into laughter, then quickly put his hands over his mouth to silence himself. He started to giggle quietly. Hendrick started to giggle at Malik's giggling.
They grabbed the case and put it over on one of the empty racks that had been used to store torpedoes. Malik closed the inner torpedo tube door, flooded the tube with water, and opened the outer door. Hendrick counted the number of gold bars in a crate - there were six to each crate - then tried to figure out in his mind how much each crate was worth. He put one of the gold bars on a small scale and read the weight. Each gold bar is twenty-seven and a half pounds, he thought. And at sixteen ounces to the pound, that's four hundred some ounces to a bar and over twenty-four hundred ounces to a crate. Now at about fifteen hundred dollars to the ounce ... His mind struggled to do the arithmetic. About four million dollars per crate!
Hendrick let out a gasp at the estimate.
Malik gave him a close look. "You okay?"
Hendrick pointed to the crate full of gold. "Four million."
Malik's eyes went wide open, and he grinned with even more enthusiasm than before. A few moments later thoughts of paranoia struck both of them.
"We should have gotten our handguns out for this exercise," said Malik.
Hendrick nodded slowly. "Maybe you're right. Too late now."
"I hope Golubev and his crew keep their agreement," muttered Malik.
"If they all came after us, the guns wouldn't do us much good," replied Hendrick. "We can't very well shoot the crew that's going to get us out of here." Malik grunted assent.
The clunking sounds of the next crate hitting the bottom of the open torpedo tube jolted them into action. After two raps on the hull told them that the divers were clear of the tube, they closed the door and pumped out the water. Moments later they eagerly laid their hands on the second crate filled with gold. Hendrick's mind forgot about security and went off like a cash register's bell. They now had about eight million dollars aboard. Even if they stopped now, they would make a huge profit on the salvage operation.
Hendrick and Malik and their diving crew labored on over the next few hours loading crates onto the torpedo racks until the forward torpedo room was nearly full from top to bottom. They both jumped nervously as the door to the torpedo room was suddenly opened. Hendrick ran to the door to confront whoever had entered.
Viktor Golubev stood squarely in the doorway with his hands on his hips. Hendrick came to rest only a few inches from his puffy face. He was a head taller than the stout Russian, but the old sea captain was not intimidated.
"Captain, you were supposed to -" began Hendrick in Russian.
"We know what you have here," said Golubev and gestured toward the inside of the torpedo room.
Hendrick looked over Golubev's shoulder and saw several of the sub's crew behind him. He suddenly had a sinking feeling.
"Come now, Mr. Hendrick," replied Golubev. "We only want a part of it."
"This wasn't our agreement, Golubev, and you know -" shouted Hendrick.
"We will change our agreement," said Golubev calmly. Some of the sub's crew pressed forward to lend weight to the captain's words.
"I was afraid of this," said Hendrick, switching back to English in a low voice.
"Suppose we say no deal, then what?" asked Malik belligerently from behind Hendrick.
"You need us to get out of here, do you not?" asked Golubev. "This submarine is your only mode of transportation for your treasure. If we left you here -"
"You bastard!" said Malik and tried to move around Hendrick, but the bigger man stopped him. Golubev didn't flinch or step back but looked Hendrick straight in the eye.
"I don't think you want a fight," said Golubev. "You're outnumbered and outgunned as well. Let us have a new agreement, and then concentrate on getting as much of the treasure as possible on board so all our shares will be great."
"How much?" asked Hendrick in a sour tone. Malik turned and looked at his partner in disbelief. Hendrick glanced at him and shrugged.
"We're not greedy," said Golubev. "Ninety percent will do nicely."
Malik ground his teeth and drew his right arm back to hit Golubev. Hendrick grabbed his arm and wouldn't let it go.
"Easy, Joe. Easy," he said in a calm tone. He looked at Golubev. "You don't want a fight either, do you?" asked Hendrick through clenched teeth. "We'll give you twenty percent."
Twenty percent is ridiculous," stated Golubev. "The only fair way is for each man to have equal shares."
Hendrick struggled to do the math in his mind. There were fifteen Russians, six divers and he and Malik for a total of twenty-three men onboard. The Russians would get sixty-five percent!
"Yeah, that's probably fair," said Hendrick with resignation in his voice.
"But they're going to get most of the take!" said Malik in anguish.
"That's thirty five percent for us," said Hendrick. "A minute ago we only had ten percent."
"And that's fair?" asked Malik with anguish on his face.
Hendrick turned to Golubev. "Let me have a minute with my partner."
Golubev look over the two of them suspiciously then backed up outside the torpedo room. Hendrick slammed the door in his face. He grabbed Malik by the arm and drew him away from the watertight door.
"Are you nuts?" said Malik. "We bust our asses for years to get this treasure, and they just take most of it away from us."
"Listen, we're not in a particularly good bargaining position," replied Hendrick. "They're right about needing them to get out of here, so we have to make a deal with them."
Malik shook his head in frustration. "The treasure was always second priority to your father's goddamn mission, wasn't it? So you don't mind giving most of the gold away! Well, I got news for you, Steve. I don't give a shit about what happened sixty years ago! We have this gold here and now. We should keep it!"
Malik's words shocked Hendrick. He had always known that the OSS mission was uppermost in his mind, but he didn't think he was that obvious. Did what happened over sixty years ago here matter to anyone except him? He sighed, realizing that he had been on an impossible mission and that Joe Malik had tagged along for the most practical reason of all, to get rich.
Malik saw Hendrick's face fall with disappointment and his anger immediately dissipated. "Listen, Steve. I - I'm sorry. I didn't -"
Hendrick looked at him, his earlier upbeat manner slowly returning. "We'll just have to make sure that they don't see any more treasure that we find."
"How the hell are we going to do that?" asked Malik.
"We hide it," said Hendrick.
"Where? On this tub we're packed so close together that we can't even turn around without bumping into each other," answered Malik.
"Who said we have to hide it inside the sub?" asked Hendrick with a thoughtful expression.
CHAPTER 12
Diamonds
Hendrick, Malik, and the diving team spent the next twenty-four hours surreptitiously filling the external decompression chamber with all the loot it would hold. They couldn't put anything like gold bars in the decompression chamber, or Golubev would notice the weight imbalance as soon as they got underway. The divers had found packages of bank notes still sealed in waterproof bales, and they had decided to store as many of them as possible in the decompression chamber, jamming the chamber completely full. The entrance to the chamber was from outside the submarine, so for Golubev's men to inspect the chamber they would have to don diving gear and exit the sub through one of the hatches. To keep the Russians from getting suspicious, the divers also brought more gold bars through the torpedo tube.
After getting the chamber full, Hendrick and Malik decided to check out the metallic objects they had located earlier using the ROV.
Steve Hendrick and Joe Malik floated just above the large metallic object that Hendrick had found about a quarter mile away from the wreck of the Awa Maru. Malik shined his light over the rectangular hunk of metal and wondered how they would open it. Hendrick scribbled a word on his writing slate and showed it to Malik. SAFE?
Malik shrugged then made a motion implying opening a tin can. Hendrick nodded enthusiastically. Malik pulled out an underwater cutting torch, lit it off, and got to work. In ten minutes he had cut a foot long hole in one side of the metal object. Hendrick jammed a pry bar into the slot formed by the torch and after bracing himself by jamming his flippers under the object's edge, pushed the bar downwards. The metal gave on the second try, and Hendrick was able to push the cut metal section upwards like a lid on hinges.
Malik immediately illuminated the inside with his light. They could see a series of rectangular shapes and were uncertain initially what they represented. Malik pried at one of the rectangular shapes, then pulled the whole thing upwards, revealing an elongated box.
They were drawers loosely set inside the safe, and he and Malik suddenly realized that they had cut through the back of the safe. Malik withdrew one of the long drawers completely and examined it. The drawer had a lid just like a safe-deposit box in any bank with a padlock through a padeye keeping the lid secured. Hendrick pulled out a set of metal cutters and quickly cut the lock from the end of the drawer. He pushed the hasp back, grabbed one edge of the lid and lifted it with some effort to overcome the corrosion on the hinge. Hendrick waved at the silt-covered contents inside the drawer sending up a cloud of mud into the water. They both waved furiously to send the mud on its way away from the drawer. Malik played his light back and forth over the inside of the drawer, and they both gasped at what was inside.
The diamonds caught the light and reflected it back in a glittery, breathtaking fashion. They stared at it for a long moment, then both of them exhaled at once sending a noisy cloud of bubbles upward. Malik grabbed Hendrick's arm and shook it with new-found energy, and Hendrick did the same to his partner.
They went to work pulling out all the drawers. Hendrick made a motion to cut off another lock, but Malik stopped him by pointing toward the remote operated vehicle then pointing at the dive computer. Hendrick got the message. Load up the ROV then let's get out of here. Hendrick nodded, but his mind swam with the vision of thousands of cut diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and other valuable gems. They quickly loaded the drawers into a sack that was suspended under the ROV, which they had brought along with them. Joe Malik adjusted the buoyancy of the ROV to compensate for the added load of the drawers, and they proceeded back toward the sub.
As they neared the sub, the staterooms came to Hendrick's mind. If he explored them, would he find nothing but bones and more wreckage? Or would he discover his father's mission? I have to try, he thought, even though the odds are stacked against me. He looked at the dive computer strapped to his wrist. He had enough air for another hour. He swam next to Malik and tugged his arm. He wrote on his slate, GOING INSIDE, and pointed to the Awa Maru.
Malik immediately shook his head, pointing toward the sub and the sack of diamonds. Hendrick shook his head vehemently and started off for the sunken wreck. Malik parked the ROV on the sub's hull aft of the decompression chamber and swam after his stubborn partner.
Edward Hendrick's mind had been lost for years, but he had rambled on about his brief ill-fated voyage on the Awa Maru. The clues he had provided were sparse, but Steve Hendrick periodically reviewed them in his mind to keep them fresh. His father had been on the Awa Maru and had held something, what Steve did not know. Apparently he had dropped it when the torpedoes struck the ship. And that was about it, thought Hendrick. There was one other strange thing his father would do over and over. He remembered his mother's words.
"Your father would stop and pick up every stick that we would walk past. I'd yank on his arm to move him along, but he'd insist that he had to polish the end of the stick. He'd do this all the time then get frustrated and look at the stick as if he was going to cry. Sometimes he did cry. I just never knew what to do with him. It would break my heart to see him like that. I wanted to help him, but I didn't know what he was doing."
Polishing the end of a stick. What on earth could that mean? he asked himself.
Hendrick steadied his light on the doorway where he had lingered before, his thoughts in turmoil. In a few minutes will I hold the same object in my hand? Will I recognize it when I see it?
Malik caught up to him and gave him a frustrated tug just to let him know that he was angry with him. Hendrick swam up through the doorway with a series of powerful kicks and down the corridor beyond. Most of the doors below him on the starboard side of the passage were open, but on the port side of the corridor gravity had kept all the doors closed. They spent forty-five minutes going through the empty staterooms until Malik grabbed Hendrick's arm and wouldn't let go. Malik pointed excitedly to his dive computer.
Hendrick knew there wasn't much air left. He wrote on his board, 1 MORE. Malik threw his hands up in despair.
Hendrick went to the next stateroom in line and put his hand on the doorknob. He glanced over his shoulder at Malik who just shook his head.
Hendrick pushed on the door and was surprised at how easily it moved. He let the door fall backwards to rest on the bulkhead and quickly found himself in a large stateroom. Joe Malik floated into the middle of the room with his light trained on one of the room's beds. Hendrick swam over to him and looked down the beam of Malik's light.
A skeleton lay among a tangle of springs that used to be a mattress. Hendrick played his light on the bones and saw with surprise that the skull had a large hole in the upper forehead. Malik swam over to the remains and picked up the skull. He shook it slightly, and Hendrick saw a small object fall out the bottom and land on the foot of the bed. He picked it up and trained the light on it. It appeared to be a spent bullet with one end flattened and the other retaining a cylindrical shape.
Hendrick grabbed Malik by the arm and showed him the bullet. Malik looked puzzled until Hendrick made his hand into a gun, pointing it toward the skull and pretending to fire it by simulating the recoil of the weapon. Malik nodded then laid the skull back in its original place. Hendrick put the deformed bullet into a pouch on his wet suit used for small objects. He was reminded that the last few minutes aboard the ship must have been straight out of hell with the passengers pulling out weapons and shooting one another.
At the other end of the room was a pile of assorted debris, but chief among the trash was the remains of a leather briefcase. Hendrick went over and picked it up, looking in it only to see right through the bottom. The handle had a handcuff attached to it. He examined it curiously for a moment then threw it aside. He waved at the mud covering the remaining debris, reaching into it to spread it out. His hand closed around a solid object.
He pulled out a metal tube of roughly three inches in diameter and about a foot long. The harsh light from Hendrick's lamp revealed characters embossed into the side of the metal cylinder. Hendrick rubbed at the writing to clean it from its long storage in the sea, then peered closely at it to make out what was on the tube. He had expected some Japanese characters, but again he was to see the unexpected.
A series of Cyrillic characters went from one point on the side of the cylinder nearly all the way around to meet the beginning characters.
Russian? thought Hendrick. He knew Russian, but he couldn't see what was on the mysterious cylinder due to some remaining mud. He looked for a way to open the tube but found that both ends were sealed. Hendrick jammed it into his belt bag and swam over to where Joe Malik was waving him toward the exit.
Malik led the way out as Hendrick's mind was in turmoil. Could this cylinder be related to my father's mission? But he had been working against Japan, not Russia. The United States was allied with Russia during World War II. Disappointment filled him. He grunted to himself in self-criticism. Complete his father's mission? That was a joke. How naive he had been.
They left the ship and swam to the submarine. Hendrick pulled the cylinder from his belt bag, looking at its Russian lettering. Maybe it'll have some historical value, he thought. He threw the cylinder into the net beneath the ROV.
Malik wrote on his board, WHERE TO HIDE? and pointed to the diamonds. Hendrick was ready for the question. Hendrick and Malik both knew that there was no room to hide the diamonds in the decompression chamber. Hendrick scribbled on his board, ISLAND. Malik gave an exaggerated shrug, and Hendrick wrote, YOU'LL SEE.
The compression chamber door swung shut, and Hendrick and Malik spun the wheel, sealing themselves inside. Ian Howard operated the controls to bring the pair back to the pressure they had just left. He set the automatic depressurization schedule to bring them back to normal atmospheric pressure in two hours. Howard walked away from the chamber and looked in on the rest of the divers. They were all dozing during their scheduled break.
Now is as good a time as any, he thought. He went back to his quarters and pulled out a bag from under his bunk. He opened up the false bottom to the bag, removing a small electronic device and connecting it to a cable that went to the laptop lying on the bed. Howard typed a short message into the computer, then hit a key which downloaded it into the device at the end of the cable. He disconnected the cable, erased the computer memory of the message, and put the device into a pocket in his jacket.
Howard left his room and walked to the airlock, being careful to avoid the windows of the decompression chamber as he walked by. After a surreptitious look around, he donned the top half of his wet suit and a facemask, picked up a pony bottle of air and began breathing with it. He climbed into the airlock and pushed the switches to flood it with seawater. The sound of water would be heard by Hendrick and Malik in the decompression chamber, but he had already made up a story about it.
The airlock filled to the top, and Howard opened the outer hatch. He pulled the device from his pocket and activated a hidden switch that inflated a small balloon. He released it and watched it swiftly disappear from sight. When it hits the surface, the transmitter will activate, he thought, sending a very short burst to a satellite. From there the message will be relayed back to SIS and CIA.
This is not an intelligence mission, he thought paraphrasing his message. Just a rather unique and exciting salvage operation. At least, so far.
After decompression, Hendrick and Malik huddled over the ROV control station and watched as the ROV headed to the west north west in the direction of Niushan Dao, the nearest island to them and unfortunately very close to mainland China.
"This I gotta see," said Malik as he shook his head in disbelief. "We find a fortune in diamonds, and you're sending it to God-knows-where."
"You worry too much," replied Hendrick.
"We have enough cable for this epic journey?" asked Malik.
"Yeah," replied Hendrick.
Malik gave him a close look. "We're rich beyond our wildest dreams, and you don't look so happy. What's up?" Hendrick shook his head.
"Your father's mission," said Malik quietly. It wasn't a question.
"You got a big mouth," replied Hendrick sourly.
Yevgeny Loshak and Anatoli Drukarev labored to search each case of gold that was stored in the forward torpedo room. They now had the equivalent of more than one hundred and fifty cases, some gold actually in cases and some individual bars, shoved into every corner of the room and they both had to look inside each case. After a few hours of intense work, they slid to the deck for a rest and tried to come to grips with the reality of the mass of gold that was stored all around them.
"I've never seen anything like this in my whole life," whispered Loshak. Drukarev nodded and wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve.
"How are we going to keep our share secret?" asked Loshak.
Drukarev shrugged. "I don't know. But I do know that we had better complete our assigned mission, or else we'll be on the gulag for a long, long time. As long as we give them what they want, then we'll be free to quit and leave the country. Then we can spend our share of this -" He waved his arm around his head. "- and live the good life for once."
They lapsed into silence and thought about the incredible amount of money they each would get just for being on this mission. They looked at each other simultaneously with the same thought on their minds.
"We'd live a much better life, if we had it all," said Loshak in a voice inviting intrigue.
"We'd have to have someplace to hide," said Drukarev.
"I hear that in the Seychelles a man could pay the government ten million American dollars, and they would let him become a citizen and shield him from extradition," replied Loshak.
"Ten million is a lot of money," replied Drukarev. It was also coincidentally the amount Konaka had offered them just for periodic position reports after the gold was recovered. The gold in the torpedo room dwarfed Konaka's offer. They knew what Konaka had in mind: he was going to hijack the sub and steal the gold. With the treasure right in front of them, Konaka was far from their minds.
"Think of how much would be left. I think we can live on the remaining hundreds of millions of dollars," answered Loshak.
They both thought of the sun drenched tropical islands of the Seychelles off the coast of southern Africa. Drukarev smiled.
"We must first find what Comrade Bakhtin is looking for. We don't want the Sluzhba to come after us. They won't worry about nice legal technicalities like extradition. I wish we knew what Bakhtin was looking for," said Loshak referring to the mysterious metal cylinder Bakhtin had told them about.
"Secrets, tovarisch. It is always secrets," replied Drukarev.
"What can possibly be secret on a Japanese freighter that went down over sixty years ago?" asked Loshak.
"You and I will never know," replied Drukarev as he remembered Georgi Bakhtin's explicit orders. Deliver the sealed canister to Bakhtin personally. He had emphasized the word sealed. Drukarev hauled himself to his feet. "All right, Yevgeny Vladimirovich, it's back to work for us."
Loshak got up wearily and faced the last section of crates that they had to examine. They were also counting the gold bars for the crew to ensure they didn't get shortchanged later on. The last section was in a particularly awkward place to access. The crates were on a torpedo shelf that was recessed into the aft bulkhead of the torpedo room, allowing access from one side only. Loshak climbed on the shelf and yanked on a crate to get it into position so that both of them could grasp it.
Loshak, after some labor, got the crate exposed enough to allow Drukarev to grab the other side. Loshak got down from the shelf and grabbed one end of the crate while Drukarev grabbed the other. They both lifted the crate and slid it toward the edge of the shelf, but the bottom of the box split and hung down enough to catch the edge of the shelf. They tried to lift it over the obstruction but succeeded only in ripping the bottom of the box completely off. Gold bars spilled out on the shelf, onto the deck below, striking their legs and feet.
They both uttered an involuntary stream of obscenities for a moment while hopping around holding their feet, then realized the need for quiet and suppressed any further noise.
ABOARD THE HAN 405
Sonarman Yi frowned and pressed his earphones closer to his ears. The sound was muffled and indistinct. Sounds of a shifting wreck? There were enough of them in the Taiwan Strait. Yi mentally removed the possibility of it being sea life - he had never heard anything like it. Some dull thudding, then sounds like human voices. Whatever it was, he had to tell his superiors. He turned to the sonar supervisor.
"I just heard something strange," he said.
"Play it back on tape," ordered the supervisor. Yi set it up and played the sounds over a loudspeaker. The supervisor screwed up his face in concentration, then called for the captain over the intercom.
Captain Tse Zhi-Li strode into the sonar room and went up to Yi. Without a word he held out his hand, and Yi gave him the headphones. Tse put the phones on his head and ordered the sonar supervisor to play the sounds back.
"Bearing," asked Tse. The sonar supervisor glanced at the readout that gave the direction in which the hydrophones were pointed.
"Three, five, one, relative, Captain," said the supervisor.
Tse nodded, then listened to the recording twice with no emotion on his face. He gave the phones back to Yi, turned on his heel, and left the sonar room without a word. Tse walked back to the conn with his thoughts focused on the sounds he had just heard. Something was out there, he thought. Some enemy was out there. His mission was to proceed up and down the strait to determine the location of the diesel fumes they had detected periodically from aircraft they operated over the strait. The fumes appeared almost regularly, approximately every forty-eight hours, and the question on everyone's mind was whether a submarine had taken up residence in the strait.
And what would be their mission? Intelligence gathering was uppermost on the minds of his superiors. Special operations could not be ruled out either. The traitors on Taiwan had been known to try that sort of thing in the past. Specially trained commando teams would be sent across the strait with instructions to photograph any military installations they could find.
Back in the days when Captain Tse was a child and Chiang Kai-shek ruled Taiwan, the Chinese on Taiwan were preparing to invade the mainland. The waters of the strait were filled with men and their weapons, each side patrolling their coasts ready to do battle, ready to kill and be killed. The commando teams back then carried more than cameras. They were ordered to sabotage gun emplacements, ammo dumps, and so forth to prepare for the inevitable invasion.
Only the invasion was never to be. The United States refused to back an invasion of the mainland by the Chinese under Chiang Kai-shek, and the Chinese on Taiwan knew they could never win without the Americans.
All long ago, thought Tse. The world has changed many times over since then, but one thing that has not changed was that the People's Republic of China had enemies, one of which was only a bare one hundred and twenty kilometers across the Taiwan Strait. He and all the others in the PRC's armed forces had to be ready at all times to throw back the invaders from Taiwan.
Captain Tse walked up to the chart on which was plotted his boat's position. He had one of his junior officers draw a line from their current position at a relative bearing of three, five, one to see where the noise might be coming from. His vessel was southeast of Niushan Dao, a small island a few kilometers from the coast of China. He had ordered a speed of dead slow, the blades of his screw turning at a bare minimum. This was when the ship was at its quietest, yet still underway. The noise had been undefined, with no distinguishing beat note that would be the sound of screw blades working their way through the sea.
Tse glanced at the chart once again. The noise had come from the same direction as an old wreck, which was noted on the chart with a small silhouette of a sinking ship. Was the noise some piece of the wreckage shifting and falling? Or was there a submarine using the wreck for cover as it went about its business of spying on China?
Tse ordered silence in his ship and waited for the next sounds in the direction of the sunken ship.
Joe Malik gently opened the hatch to the forward torpedo room. He looked in, saw Loshak and Drukarev, and scowled with displeasure. He stepped over the cowling and softly shut the hatch. He walked up to Loshak and looked him up and down. The Russian was six inches taller than Malik, but the size of an opponent never fazed Malik.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Malik asked Loshak belligerently. Loshak, who was fluent in English, pretended to barely understand Malik, and made a show at guessing the meaning of Malik's outburst.
"Ve count ..." said Loshak his voice trailing off as he feigned the limit of his English. He pointed to the fingers on his hand as if he were counting.
"Counting your loot stolen from us, are ya," said Malik.
Loshak scratched his head and looked at Drukarev who, following his partner's lead, just shrugged. Four crewmembers arrived and picked up two of the cases of gold to be stored in a different part of the submarine. They had orders from Captain Golubev to distribute the gold evenly throughout the boat to improve the sub's trim when they got underway. They had taken some gold out of the forward torpedo room already and were back for more. The crewmen, two to a gold case, turned to go aft.
"Stick around, boys," said Malik sourly. "There's some divers outside with some more of my gold that you can steal." He switched to passable Russian and looked at Loshak and Drukarev. "If you're going to steal most of it from us, then you can haul it over there and put it on a shelf."
Malik heard the muffled thump of the signal from the divers outside. He put his hand on the switch that would send seawater into the now empty torpedo tube.
"You boys ready for some action?" Malik asked sourly to the exhausted looking Russians. They just stared at him, pretending not to understand.
Joe Malik hit the switch that started the pumps to flood the torpedo tube with water as he had done dozens of times before.
HAN 405
Sonarman Yi bolted upright in his chair. He pressed the headphones to his ears to make sure of the sounds he was hearing. "I have sounds of a torpedo tube being flooded! Bearing three, five, one!" he exclaimed. The sonar supervisor was at the intercom in an instant. He repeated the information to the conn.
Captain Tse, who had been leaning over the chart table, straightened quickly and looked at his crew in the conn.
"Man battle stations!" ordered Tse. The crew ran to their stations as they took in the electrifying news.
"Right standard rudder. Come to course zero, four, five," commanded Tse. He decided against increasing speed in the chance that whoever was out there hadn't heard them yet. He went to the intercom. "Sonar, give me a blade count."
The sonar supervisor listened on a separate set of earphones and shook his head. He pushed the talk lever on the intercom. "No other sounds. No sound of screws at all."
Tse rubbed his forehead in puzzlement. Was this contact dead in the water? Or did his sonarman mistake the eternal gurgling sounds of the sea for a torpedo tube being flooded with water?
Joe Malik glanced at the gauge, which showed that the torpedo tube was full of seawater. He pressed the button that opened the outer door. He heard a low metallic squeal and thought that he might have to get some of the divers to reapply some grease to the doors.
Above all, he thought, let's not attract any attention from the wrong people.
HAN 405
"Conn, sonar. Contact is opening outer doors!" exclaimed the sonar supervisor.
The words from the sonar crew convinced Tse that there was an enemy lurking in the direction of the old wreck. "Ahead flank!" he ordered in a calm voice. "Load torpedo tubes one and four."
Captain Tse grabbed an overhead handhold as the boat gained speed around him. His crew was tense but ready. They had trained a long time, and now they would be put to the test.
The sonarman on Hendrick's submarine listened intently for a short moment, then decided that this new set of sounds needed the captain's attention. He stood and walked over to the opposite bulkhead and yanked on his shipmate until he was fully awake.
"Go get Golubev," he said. "We have a hostile contact!"
The sonarman's words jolted the man into action, and he ran off the find Captain Golubev. The sonarman resumed his seat in front of the sonar console, and he instinctively reached for the sonar computer, which was used for comparing sound signatures with stored versions of known ships and submarines. His hand rested on a vacant spot on the console, and he cursed the decision of the Russian Navy to take out all sonar and fire control computers before they set sail.
Golubev rushed in and the sonarman handed him the headphones. He listened for a moment, and he confirmed that the sounds of the screw beating its way through the water meant that this was another submarine, probably Chinese. He guessed that it was one of their better subs, and he knew that he and all the people on board were now in imminent danger of being fired upon.
Golubev tore the headphones off and threw them to the sonarman and ran to the conn. He went to a newly installed control panel with its red Cyrillic letters spelling out EMERGENCY RECALL in Russian. He flipped up the red switch protective cover, then immediately pushed up the toggle switch. The sounds of killer whales filled the sea around the submarine. They had set this equipment up in the event he had to immediately recall all the divers back to the submarine.
This is a pretty thin disguise, thought Golubev. The captain of the hostile submarine would have to be pretty stupid to think a bunch of whales suddenly showed up. But we couldn't have any obviously man-made noises to recall the divers, he concluded.
Once I get all the divers aboard, thought Golubev, then what do I do?
HAN 405
Captain Tse looked at the intercom with a pained expression. Has the crew in sonar lost their minds? Whale sounds? The thought crossed his mind to ask them if they believed that the whales were about to launch a torpedo at them. It was a humorous thought, but he did not smile. The time was not right - it wouldn't do to smile when your ship could be under attack. He would laugh about it later.
Was this some new trick from their enemies? Or was it a new type of active sonar that was made to sound like a whale? He strained his hearing and could just detect the siren sounds above the breathing of his men and the thumping of his own heart.
"Sonar, are there any sounds of screws?" asked the captain impatiently over the intercom.
"No, sir," answered the sonar supervisor.
"Communications depth," the captain ordered. He turned to his communications officer. "Send this message: We have contact with possible hostile submerged vessel located approximately sixteen kilometers due east of Niushan Dao." The officer immediately scrambled to the communications station to comply with the order.
They will send more ships to try to get this intruder to surface, Tse thought. Or perhaps it will be a full-blown attack on this quiet foe. Either way, we will be ready.
Steve Hendrick maneuvered the ROV with its sack of diamonds into a submerged cave. He hit the release button on the control console to jettison the sack just as the whale sounds filled the sea around the sub. The load of diamonds sank quickly to the bottom of the cave in twenty feet of water. Emergency recall, he thought. I'd better finish up here and see what's happening.
Hendrick ran the ROV up to the surface to allow its antenna to receive GPS signals from the constellation of orbiting satellites. Hendrick glanced at the latitude and longitude readouts on the control panel in front of him and committed the numbers to memory. He would be coming back soon to retrieve the diamonds from their underwater hiding place. The TV screen, displaying the signals from the ROV, showed the island of Niushan Dao in the distance with a stubby looking lighthouse on its highest elevation. Hendrick set the ROV controls to automatically return to the submarine and quickly went out the door to find Golubev.
Viktor Golubev watched nervously as the divers quickly climbed down the ladder leading from the airlock. He cautioned them in frantic whispers to be quiet as they took off their tanks and laid them gently on a folded blanket provided by one of the crew to prevent any metal-to-metal sounds. They immediately went into the decompression chamber.
Meanwhile the rest of the crew was shutting down the few remaining noise producing devices normally left on. Air circulating fans went off and the atmosphere quickly grew stuffy. Golubev cautioned everyone to sit still and not move at all for fear of making some noise recognizable to the submarine lurking a mile away. Golubev filled Hendrick in on the situation.
"What do we do about it?" asked Hendrick in a whisper.
"Nothing. We wait," replied Golubev.
"Wait for them to go away?" asked Hendrick.
"Or to fire a torpedo at us," whispered Golubev.
Hendrick faced blanched at the prospect of a torpedo being fired at the rattle trap they were in. He felt fear but wouldn't give in to it.
"How long can we stay like this?" asked Hendrick.
Golubev looked at his watch and did a mental calculation. "Six hours."
"That's all?" asked Hendrick with a touch of panic.
"We need some battery life to get out of here. That shortens the absolute maximum time we can stay down," said Golubev. He turned and walked down the corridor to sonar with Hendrick following him.
Golubev leaned over his now sweaty sonarman and asked for the status with his eyes.
"Nothing changed. He's still about two kilometers out just circling," said the sonarman in a hushed voice. He sat up suddenly and pressed his earphones closer. "Wait."
A minute went by, then another, moving each of them through time with an agonizing slowness.
"Possible surface combatant," said the sonarman. Golubev didn't react at all.
Hendrick touched Golubev on the arm. "We better think about a way out of here."
Golubev nodded. "This surface ship will be the one to flush us out of our hiding place with depth charges. I will get the crew ready to move quickly if an opportunity presents itself."
Hendrick nodded. At least Golubev and he were on the same wavelength. The Russian captain went off quietly to get the crew ready to lift off the bottom if he saw a chance to escape. The surface ship's sonar began to fill the water around them with pulses of sound. Hendrick knew the noise would increase in volume until the water surrounding the sub quivered with the power of the ship's sonar.
The sonarman mumbled something in Russian. Hendrick caught only "- in the water." Hendrick considered asking the man what was in the water, but knew he didn't want to hear the answer.
Thirty seconds later, they heard a muffled explosion some distance away.
The sonar man said something else, but Hendrick didn't listen. Twenty seconds later they heard another explosion, this time much nearer. The hull rang with the intensity of the blast. The noise was loud enough to induce pain in Hendrick's ears. Even the calm sonar man sitting next to him was gripping the table in front of him so hard his knuckles were white.
Hendrick had faced danger many times in the past and knew the fear of death intimately, but this new danger was the most frustrating he had ever encountered. The sheer helplessness of his position was maddening. He could do nothing to get out of the situation they were in.
The sonar tech listened on his earphones then looked at his watch. After waiting twenty seconds, he quickly pulled off his earphones and gripped the table. Hendrick braced himself. The blast from the depth charge was louder than the last, causing his teeth to rattle. The Russian replaced his earphones and listened intently. He grew puzzled.
Hendrick picked up another set of earphones, and the sonar man obligingly set up the console to let Hendrick listen in. He heard a whirring noise amid a host of cracks, pops, and grinding noises that was the wreck of the Awa Maru reacting to the depth charges. Hendrick looked at his Russian companion and shrugged, asking him what it was. The man only shrugged back.
Hendrick heard a sudden gurgling sound and saw the sonar man look at his watch again. He took his earphones off at the same time as the Russian. The blast from the explosion was muted with increased distance. Hendrick hoped that the warship was moving off.
Hendrick replaced his headphones and heard the whirring sound once again. He looked at the direction indicator in front of the sonar man and saw that the sound was coming from almost directly east, the direction of Niushan Dao. The surface ship that was dropping depth charges had moved off in the opposite direction. So what was the whirring sound? Hendrick shook his head and commanded his mind to think.
The ROV! The sound was the remote sub's screws as it came back to their vessel. An idea formed in Hendrick's mind, and he jumped up to find Golubev.
CHAPTER 13
Return to the Truth
The Shibuya station of the Tokyo subway system was crowded with commuters making their way to work in the morning. Masaya Konaka ran across the station platform after depositing his one hundred and forty yen in the tollbooth. Clutching a package, he dodged in and out of crowds of people who formed massive knots of humanity as they flowed toward their trains.
Konaka was six feet, three inches tall and a bare one hundred twenty pounds, a tall thin man with an exceptionally hard face. Some looked at him and became unintentionally captivated by his granite features, looking away only to revisit his face periodically to come to some conclusion about the man behind the steel-like flesh.
Konaka ran through an open door just before the real crush of bodies occurred as it always did at this time of the day. He got situated in the spot he wanted and pressed himself against the side of one of the seats, all of which were already filled with people. Commuters packed in around him and rapidly filled every cubic inch of the bottom half of the subway car. Konaka resisted the crush to make room for the package wrapped in brown paper, which he placed between himself and the side of the car.
The sliding doors tried to close but couldn't, due to several people hanging on outside the car trying to get in. Subway employees came along the station platform and leaned their shoulders into the backs of the riders to shove them completely inside the car. They grunted and groaned, a few people shifted and became more compressed than before; the doors began to close, opened again, then finally closed completely. There was a collective sigh from the riders in the car.
Did my father do this every day? Konaka asked himself in amazement. A midlevel government employee for many years, Konaka's father worked many nights and weekends trying to satisfy overbearing superiors. He died in disgrace at forty years old of stress related illnesses, leaving his wife and sons to fend for themselves in a very tough world. Konaka tried but could not remember what his father looked like - he hadn't been around much during Konaka's youth.
Working in the financial end of government, Konaka's father had borne the brunt of a scandal involving bribes to government officials by American defense industry companies interested in making further inroads into the Japanese economy. The government accused the elder Konaka of supplying information allowing Americans to manipulate the Nikkei, the stock market of Japan, thus providing a reason for the market slide of the late '90s. Konaka didn't know whether his father was guilty or not, and didn't care.
They killed my father to cover up their own incompetence, thought Konaka. Just as they killed my great-grandfather a hundred years ago.
The car slid into motion and picked up speed. Konaka studied the faces of the people near him and saw an almost universal apathy to the traveling conditions they endured each day. They rode the subways every day and were used to it, or resigned to it.
They're all brain dead, thought Konaka. Another symptom of the problem facing Japan today. Everyone's exhausted; they just accept things, believing that they cannot change them. They will all see how things can be changed. They will see today how things can change.
Konaka released his grip on the package and allowed it to slide down between his leg and the wall of the car until it rested on the floor. He took a quick look around and saw that no one had seen the movement of the package. Konaka pushed against the package with his foot, knocking it flat to the floor then sliding it under the seat he was leaning against.
The subway stopped at the Omotesando station on the Ginza Line. Konaka pushed and shoved his way through the pressed bodies until he escaped the crush and walked free on the station platform. He quickly walked to one of the numerous exits. After a few minutes to crush more commuters into its interior, the subway went on its way.
Konaka reached into his pocket and nervously fingered the silk scarf he always had with him. He wanted to put it over his face, but to do so now would make him conspicuous. He reached the street and headed for a waiting car, which then wound its way through city streets until reaching Expressway Number Three. The car headed southwest in the opposite direction of Konaka's journey on the Ginza Line.
Konaka gave in and put the scarf over his face beneath the eyes, tying the scarf behind his head. He thought briefly about the scarf and his obsession with hiding his face from the world. He supposed that it revealed something deep within him, but there was also a practical purpose. Konaka didn't want his men to get used to his face. A little mystery will help to keep my organization together, he thought. Michael Jackson had his black surgical mask. Why not a Japanese citizen with a scarf over his face? He told one of the men in the front seat to turn on the car radio.
Any minute now, he thought, the anticipation rising in him like a flash flood.
The subway car passed Gaienmae and Aoyamaitchome Stations, hurtling headlong toward Akasakamitsuke Station. The train stopped at the extremely busy station, exchanging enormous numbers of people with the crowds on the station platform. At the height of the transfer, the twenty pounds of C4 explosive placed underneath the subway car seat detonated. The mass of humanity pressed into the car was parted by the concussion, sending bodies flying out of the car into the dense crowds on the platform. The stainless steel body of the subway car was ripped apart by the explosion, forming efficient shrapnel and itself was responsible for the deaths of a dozen people.
Minutes later Konaka heard the first words of the explosion over the radio.
"I wish it could have been the Kokkai-Guidomae station in the Diet Building," said Ken-Ichi Murata, one of Konaka's followers in the front seat of the large sedan. Although he wanted to quit the government to follow Konaka full time, Murata was still a government employee and would remain so at Konaka's urging. The terrorists needed spies in the government to do as much damage as possible.
In the back seat Konaka nodded imperceptibly. The Diet building station was gone over thoroughly by security forces ever since Shoko Asahara's followers in the Aum Shinrikyo cult, meaning Supreme Truth, set off a sarin gas attack in the Tokyo subway system that killed twelve and sickened thousands.
Konaka thought of Asahara and nearly smiled at the incompetence of the cult in letting the government catch them at the business of poison gas production. These lunatics will give all of us a bad name, he thought with amusement.
The excited voice of the radio announcer told of other explosions in the subway system, at Toranomon near the Ministries of Education, and International Trade and Industry. There's a real message, Konaka mused. It shows the disdain we have for the educational system in Japan today and the utter contempt we have for international trade. More explosions would be recorded at the Kanda and Sudobashi stations and especially the Ichigaya station across the moat from the Ichigaya Post garrison of the Ground Self Defense Force. More messages, thought Konaka. It will not take them long to see that the affected stations surround the Imperial Palace grounds and the seat of the Japanese government.
Late in the day, Konaka sat in his office on the fortified island of Tung-yin Tao in the East China Sea. The terrorist attacks had made news around the world. Konaka watched the satellite television for a while then turned off the set. The news media had said that three hundred twenty-six people had been killed and six hundred twelve had been injured.
Disappointing, thought Konaka. I was hoping for twice that many. At these levels it will take twenty years to get the government's attention. He contemplated his next move. One phone call and he could have all the publicity he wanted, his name and the name of his group a household word around the world. But no, he thought, that is where all these other groups go wrong. Asahara, leader of the Aum Shinrikyo and once a friend, had gone over into madness. Imagine selling your followers your bathwater or, even more outrageously, your blood. There were reports that Asahara even sold his semen to his followers. Konaka let disgust ripple through him.
He would not make that mistake. The descent into madness would not claim him. His followers, the Shinri no Kiro, meaning Return to the Truth, were not madmen. They were dedicated to the ideal of returning the government of Japan to the people of Japan, not the American industrialists who bought anything and anyone who stood in their way.
Konaka reaffirmed his plan to keep the existence of his group away from the government. Best that they don't know what will strike them down. The attacks today were a start on a long journey to the renewal of Japan, the reinstitution of the samurai as the means for justice in Japan's society. But how to shorten the journey? He puzzled over that for several moments. He knew he needed more, larger spectacles than what he had achieved today. He needed to be more persuasive.
The thought was on him in a rush and would not leave him alone. The former Soviet Union had many things no longer needed by them, and there were always someone willing and able to sell even the hardest-to-get items. He thought of Hendrick and his quest for the treasure of the Awa Maru. Ever since he had boarded Hendrick's salvage ship months ago, the courageous American had not been far from his thoughts. He was expecting to hear soon of Hendrick's success or failure from his two mercenaries, Loshak and Drukarev.
Konaka's initial interest in Hendrick's treasure hunting was to get enough money to keep his followers with him and his dream alive, but now the money would be used elsewhere - for one final stroke at the corrupt Japanese government and their seedy allies, the United States chief among them.
A thought struck him, reminding him of a line in the creed of the samurai.
I have no eyes; I make the Flash of Lightning my eyes.
CHAPTER 14
Chase
Steve Hendrick ran down the narrow, dimly lit corridor toward the conn where Golubev was planning how to get away from the Chinese Navy. A depth charge detonated unexpectedly causing the whole vessel to shudder and Hendrick to lose his balance. A second blast occurred only seconds later, sending Hendrick bouncing painfully between the bulkheads on either side of the passageway.
He leaned against the wall of the corridor for a moment to regain his bearings then sprinted down the passageway. He entered the conn and saw Golubev leaning against the bulkhead, gripping an overhead handhold. Another depth charge was imminent. Hendrick imitated Golubev's actions only seconds before another double detonation from the Chinese depth charges.
Golubev immediately went to the intercom and shouted something which Hendrick didn't understand, then he quickly went back to the chart table.
"Captain, the ROV is still outside," began Hendrick. Golubev completely ignored him.
"Captain!" shouted Hendrick.
Golubev turned around and leveled a venomous stare at the American. "I am busy!" he shouted back.
"We can use the ROV to distract the Chinese," said Hendrick quickly.
Golubev's face changed from confrontation to wariness. "How?"
"I can crank up the speed of the ROV and send it straight at the sub," said Hendrick. "They might think it's a torpedo."
Golubev let out a burst of air and some small drops of spittle as well to convey what he thought of the idea. "It will never work."
"Why not?" asked Hendrick vaguely aware of the crew in the conn bracing themselves for the next explosion.
"Because torpedoes make a totally different sound than one of your little toy submarines," replied Golubev.
Hendrick's face fell with disappointment as the next depth charge's shock wave pounded the sub's hull.
"Wait a minute," said Hendrick. "Didn't you tell me that you had some noise makers on board?"
"Yes," replied Golubev suspiciously.
"They imitate the sound of a sub. Right?" asked Hendrick as excitement built up in him at the onset of another idea.
"We will eject one of them when we move from this spot in the hope that the enemy will think we are still here," said Golubev.
"Why not put one on the ROV and send it at high speed away from here?" asked Hendrick. Golubev's bushy eyebrows went up until Hendrick thought they would become a permanent part of the old Russian's hairline.
"Votkak!" said Golubev. He ran toward the door leading aft and grabbed Hendrick's arm. "Quickly, my friend. We do not have much time."
The two of them ran down the passageway, cringing at each blast from the rain of depth charges. Hendrick stopped at the divers' station just below the airlock, and Golubev continued on aft toward the noisemaker launchers. Hendrick began to put on a wet suit and grabbed Joe Malik to help him put on his tanks. He filled Joe in on his plan to deceive the Chinese ships while he got suited up and ready to go. As soon as the tanks were on, he began breathing the helium-oxygen mixture.
"You're not really going out there, are you?" asked Malik who was clearly troubled.
Hendrick took the mouthpiece out of his mouth. "Got to," was Hendrick's short reply in the cartoon chipmunk voice caused by the helium. Neither man laughed. He replaced the mouthpiece and continued breathing the heliox mixture.
"If you think those depth charges are loud in here, you are not going to believe it when you're outside," said Malik. "You could get a concussion, or internal injuries from the overpressure."
"The depth charges have been going off on the port side, so steer the ROV to the starboard side," said Hendrick as he held the mouthpiece a half inch away from his lips. "That way I'll at least be in the shadow of the blast."
Malik nodded solemnly. "You can't stay out long. The damn Chinese don't give much of a break between depth charge runs."
Hendrick gave Malik a look that said 'I have no choice.' A depth charge went off nearby to make Hendrick's point. The blast shook the sub and everyone in it with new violence. Hendrick could feel his internal organs rattle with each detonation. Malik stepped inside the compartment that contained the ROV control station, and sat down in front of the controls. He guided the small vehicle to the starboard side of the submarine.
Golubev showed up with a long thin device in his hand. He immediately went up to Hendrick and began to show him how to activate the noisemaker. Hendrick listened to the instructions, nodding several times to show that he understood. Hendrick took the device and some rope to tie it to the ROV and turned to go up the ladder, but Golubev grabbed his arm.
"There is a pattern to their attack. Wait until there is a gap," he said. "I will knock twice on the hatch when you should go outside."
Hendrick nodded as excitement and adrenaline filled him. He looked at Malik through the open door to the ROV control room. His partner gave him a thumbs up. Hendrick climbed the ladder with one hand, his swim fins in the other hand, the noisemaker hanging from his belt. He got through the hatch into the airlock, closed the lid, and Golubev spun the wheel sealing the hatch.
Hendrick sat on the hatch and put on his fins as the Chinese continued their assault on the submarine. Blasts in close succession slammed into the sub's hull, and Hendrick could now feel the overpressure increase as the detonations grew louder. The Chinese ship made a pass nearly overhead by Hendrick's reckoning. Each pulse pounding second between explosions produced the mixed feelings of relief at still being alive, and fear that the next blast would rupture the hull and flood the ship.
Golubev hit the switches that flooded the airlock, and Hendrick put on his facemask just before the rising water covered his head. The depth charges kept going off unabated, causing Hendrick to wince in pain from the incredibly loud noise that was conducted into his body through the hull and the water surrounding him. Hendrick thought the explosions decreased in intensity and hope flared in him that the ship was moving away. Soon the detonations ceased completely.
Hendrick heard two metal-to-metal raps seemingly far below him, and he knew it was Golubev's signal to exit the airlock. He grabbed the wheel and spun it with a fury. The dogs on the outside hatch retracted, and Hendrick pushed upward with all his strength. The lid flew back, and he began a powerful scissors kick to take him clear of the submarine. He swam frantically for the starboard side and searched the area for the ROV. Malik hit the lights on the ROV, and Hendrick caught a gleam of light through the murky water. Visibility had decreased from a normal thirty feet to three feet or less by the pounding action of the depth charges, which kicked up silt from the bottom.
Hendrick feverishly kicked his way toward the small sub. He pulled the noisemaker from his belt and slipped the rope through a convenient slot on the device, then put the rope around the thick metal cage that surrounded the small vehicle. He quickly tied the rope in three knots and reached for the noisemaker to activate the device. He pressed a protruding tab with his thumbs, and the device began to generate very loud sounds, which Hendrick judged to be varying in frequency and in volume. Hendrick let go of the noisemaker and swam for the airlock with all his strength.
Golubev leaned over Malik as they both stared at the TV screen, which displayed the view of the ROV's camera. They caught a glimpse of Hendrick's swim fins as they inadvertently collided with the camera lens during his scramble to get back inside the submarine. Golubev tapped Malik on the shoulder.
"It is working," said the Russian as he listened to the noise coming through the hull.
Malik immediately grabbed the control joystick and turned the ROV around. He cranked the remote sub up to maximum speed and sent it on a course away to the northeast. The sounds generated by the noisemaker rapidly faded away. Malik and Golubev listened intently for any sound near the airlock. Malik glanced at the dive elapsed time clock that was mounted on the bulkhead in the passageway. The second hand just passed four minutes.
HAN 405
"Conn, Sonar. Captain, we're getting screw noises with a slow bearing change from left to right," said the sonar supervisor over the intercom. Captain Tse was quickly out of the conn and down the hallway to sonar.
"He's moving?" asked Tse with anticipation in his voice.
The sonar supervisor's face showed some uncertainty. "The noise is indistinct because of the disturbed water from the depth charges, sir, but it sounds like a sub moving slowly away from the area."
Tse reviewed his orders in his mind. He was to force the contact to the surface by any means at his disposal. If that failed, he was to attack and sink the contact. The ship above had made several sweeps with depth charges, and the contact hadn't moved. Tse made a decision. He would interpret the situation to mean that he was allowed to attack the contact. Tse always erred on the side of aggressiveness, which in the Chinese Navy was no error at all.
"Bearing to the contact," asked Captain Tse.
"Two, eight, five degrees true," replied the sonar supervisor.
Tse strode back to the conn and began issuing orders. "Weapons, do you have a firing solution?"
The weapons officer answered immediately in a loud voice. "Yes, Captain."
"Left standard rudder. Come to course three, zero, zero," ordered Tse. "Flood tube number One! Prepare to launch torpedo One!" His conning crew jumped to comply with his orders.
"Torpedo Tube One is flooded, Captain!" said one of his telephone talkers.
"Open outer doors," commanded Tse in a booming voice.
Thirty seconds later a phone talker spoke up. "Outer doors open on tube number One."
"Fire One," commanded Captain Tse.
Golubev looked up from his post in the conn when he heard the excited voice of his sonarman over the intercom.
"High speed screws, bearing zero, nine, five, true!" said the man from sonar.
Golubev leaned back his head and groaned. He knew beforehand that if the Chinese launched torpedoes at his submarine, there was nothing he could do about it. He would just have to wait and hope that the torpedo would not be able to discriminate between his vessel and the wreck of the Awa Maru. Now he would hope that the Chinese had launched at the ROV with the noisemaker tied to it.
Joe Malik stood at the bottom of the ladder below the airlock and prayed that Hendrick would arrive quickly. Too many things were happening too fast. The Chinese would renew their depth charge attack very soon, and he had just gotten word from Captain Golubev that they had launched a torpedo. Golubev didn't know yet where the torpedo was headed.
Malik heard a clanking sound and imagined that it was Hendrick's tanks banging against the hull as he hustled back into the airlock. His heart leaped with excitement as he heard other telltale sounds of his partner entering the chamber above him.
The unexpected blast from a depth charge just above the submarine sent shock waves through the ship and through Malik himself. He staggered with the blast, rebounding off the bulkhead and shook his head to clear it. He hurriedly climbed the ladder to put an ear next to the hatch, hearing nothing but the roiling water that surrounded the submarine. He waited impatiently for the sound of the outer hatch being shut and sealed but waited in vain.
Was Hendrick knocked unconscious from the depth charge explosion? Malik felt helpless. His partner and best friend could be lying just feet above him, and there was no way he could help him. Hendrick had to close the upper hatch before Malik could enter the airlock. Malik heard a metal-to-metal sound just before another depth charge went off, knocking him to the hard deck below.
Malik pushed himself to his feet and shook his head again. He glanced at the airlock control board and saw that the status light for the outside hatch went from red to green. Hendrick had somehow closed the hatch and sealed it. He quickly hit the switch that pumped seawater out of the chamber and simultaneously pumped air in. A minute and four depth charge detonations later, the light for the airlock itself went from red to green.
Malik went to the bottom of the ladder and didn't wait for Hendrick to open the inner hatch by himself. Malik spun the handwheel, immediately encountering resistance as he tried to open the hatch. He pushed upward but the hatch only opened a crack, allowing Malik to see only a black suited leg. Hendrick was lying across the top of the hatch. Malik could hear him moaning.
"Need a hand?" asked Ian Howard who stood at the bottom of the ladder.
Joe Malik grunted a 'yes' and together the two men pushed the hatch open and looked into the airlock. Hendrick was nearly unconscious. Malik got into the airlock and lowered Hendrick legs first down to the physically bigger Englishman. Howard ripped the flippers off Hendrick's feet and threw them aside, then the two of them maneuvered Hendrick down the ladder and laid him on the deck.
The submarine began to move. Malik and Howard looked around in surprise. Golubev was going to make a run for it.
Golubev felt his submarine lift off the bottom with some satisfaction. Now he was free to maneuver. But he would also make noise as the sea ran past his vessel and its screws. He gave orders to trim up the boat's attitude by pumping fuel aft to compensate for the still uneven load of gold in the bow. The Russian sub captain wanted to be prepared to move out quickly in case the Chinese torpedo was headed in their direction.
"Bearing to the torpedo is moving from left to right," said his sonarman excitedly. Golubev breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. Apparently the torpedo was passing behind them, heading for the ROV. Now was the time to move.
Golubev cocked an ear upward and outward. The depth charges had set up a pattern, and his mind had subconsciously counted off the seconds between the explosions. When the pattern was altered, his conscious mind immediately knew it. The last two depth charges hadn't gone off yet. He moved to the intercom.
"Sonar, course, and speed for the surface ship," Golubev said. He could imagine the sonarman spinning the wheel that changed the direction of his hydrophones.
"I have them moving off to the northeast," said the sonarman. "Speed is about twenty-five knots. Bearing is zero, three, zero."
The surface ship was moving in a directly opposite heading from his submarine. Yes, now was the time to move.
"Engines, ahead dead slow. Make turns for three knots," commanded Golubev into a sound powered phone. The engine room answered up and the submarine slowly began to move away from the wreck of the Awa Maru.
HAN 405
Sonarman Yi smiled widely as he turned to his sonar supervisor.
"Torpedo has gone into its active sonar mode," Yi said to a hushed sonar crew. They all broke into tense smiles. The sonar supervisor informed Captain Tse over the intercom.
Captain Tse took the information and looked at the weapons officer who nodded, then moments later appeared puzzled.
"Weapons, what is wrong?" asked Tse.
"Captain, the torpedo has gone back into passive search mode," replied the officer.
"Why? Did it home in on the screw sounds?" asked the captain.
"Yes sir, but then it went back to passive mode almost immediately," answered the weapons officer.
Tse gave him a stony look as he thought over the anomaly in his mind. The torpedoes were designed to home in on noise, then switch to active sonar for its terminal homing to make sure that the target was really a submarine and not a noise decoy. There were two possibilities: the torpedo was defective, or there was no submarine near the screw sounds. The torpedo transmitted its own sonar pulses and may not have received the correct returns to indicate that the noise contact was a submarine. If that was true, then where was the enemy submarine?
"Sonar, make a sweep of bearing two, two, zero to three, one, zero," ordered Tse.
Sonar came over the intercom and acknowledged the order as Tse mulled over the situation. Did this phantom submarine somehow send a decoy in one direction and then try to escape in another direction?
"Sonar has a slow speed contact bearing two, three, five," said a phone talker. The young man listened intently as the sonarmen gave him more information. "Identification estimate is a submerged Russian Golf class submarine."
Golf class? Tse wasn't sure of what to make of the curious information. The Russians supposedly didn't have any more operational Golf class submarines. But they did export quite a few of them to various countries, North Korea being one of them. Tse relaxed a little. Going up against an experienced Russian crew would be enough to keep him anxious, but the rest of the countries that had Golf class subs had very inexperienced crews. Tse would stack his new nuclear attack submarine against any Golf class submarine. His country's navy had one Golf class submarine, but he knew with certainty that it was still in port.
"We will follow this new contact for the moment," said Tse under his breath. He raised his voice to a level appropriate for issuing orders. "Left full rudder. Come to course two, three, zero. Ahead two thirds, make turns for fifteen knots."
Steve Hendrick slowly opened his eyes and looked at his surroundings. Joe Malik leaned over him with a concerned face. He and Ian Howard had lifted the big American onto a low table that they had covered with life jackets.
"Did you get the number of that truck?" mumbled Hendrick as he struggled to sit up. Malik helped him up then shook his head disapprovingly at his partner.
"One of these days you're not going to come back from one of your little adventures," grumbled Malik.
Hendrick looked at his partner with a pain stricken face. "Did it work?"
"Did it work?" echoed Howard. "It worked like a charm. The Chinese sub fired a torpedo, and it went after the ROV like a sailor after a skirt. You were magnificent!"
Hendrick smiled at the Englishman then winced. "Did we get away?"
"We are in the process of doing just that," replied Howard with a wide smile. "Captain Golubev has us heading south in the strait at slow speed to keep as quiet as possible."
Hendrick nodded then got shakily to his feet with the help of his companions.
"Let's go to the conn to see how Golubev is making out," said Hendrick.
"Whoa, wait a minute," protested Malik. "You've got to get into decompression."
"For five minutes? Don't make me laugh," replied Hendrick. His gaze lingered on Malik's stern face. "If I feel the bends coming on, I'll get into one of the portable chambers. Okay?"
Joe Malik shook his head as they walked down the passageway.
Golubev studied the chart while silently wondering where the Chinese ship and submarine were. How long would they stay in the northern part of the channel searching for him? In a few minutes they would turn on their powerful sonars and discover that he was long gone. At the moment he was creeping away from the wreck of the Awa Maru, and when he had put some distance between his and the Chinese ships, he would speed up to get to the southern end of the Taiwan Strait. Once there he would head southeast toward the Balintang Channel and their rendezvous with the ship Hendrick had sent from the United States, which would take his part of the treasure back to the States with him.
Golubev pushed the talk button on his sound powered phones. "Engine Room, increase speed to six knots." The engine room acknowledged the order, and the captain could feel the vessel's speed slowly build up to the ordered amount.
Hendrick entered the conn with Malik helping him. Golubev went over to him and helped him to a chair.
"So, how are you feeling, my friend?" asked Golubev with genuine concern in his voice.
"Better," replied Hendrick. "I thought one of those damned Chinese depth charges was going to crush my skull. But not this time."
"I think you saved all of our lives," said Golubev with emotion. "Spasiba, Tovarich!" He grabbed Hendrick and kissed him on the cheek.
Hendrick looked around with a twisted smile on his face. "It's not like we're going steady or anything."
Joe Malik stifled a laugh and gave an amused glance at Golubev who was puzzled at the Americans' reaction. "Captain, how far away from the Chinese sub are we?" asked Malik.
Golubev went to the chart and pointed to the last known position of the sub, which was about fifteen miles due east of the island of Niushan Dao. He indicated that their own position was about ten miles south of the Chinese sub almost in mid-channel.
"Captain, the enemy submarine has changed course and is paralleling our own course," said a hushed voice over the intercom.
Golubev groaned and translated the sonarman's statement for Malik.
"Now what?" Malik asked, giving Hendrick a troubled glance. Hendrick walked over to the chart and studied it, noting Golubev's pencil marks near two islands in the middle of the strait.
"Are you familiar with these islands?" Hendrick pointed to the twin islands of Wu-ch'iu Yu and Hsiao-ch'iu Yu, which were in the People's Republic of China's territorial waters but were owned and occupied by Taiwanese.
"Yes. I thought you would find them interesting," said Golubev. "I have used them more than once in the past when I was conducting intelligence missions along the Chinese and Taiwanese coasts."
"How did you use the islands?" asked Malik.
Golubev shook his head and grimaced. "You will not want to know."
HAN 405
Sonarman Yi turned to the sonar supervisor. "Contact has increased speed to an estimated six knots." The supervisor told the captain over the intercom.
"Communications depth!" ordered Tse. "We will tell our comrades in the surface ships that we have relocated the enemy submarine." He turned to his second-in-command. "Compose a message disclosing our position and the estimated position, course, and speed of the contact. Tell them we will immediately engage the contact."
Tse's executive officer got to work immediately and quickly had the message ready for the captain's approval.
"Good," said Tse as he looked over the wording. "Raise the communications antenna and transmit it."
Ten minutes later Tse had his vessel back to combat depth and increasing speed to close the distance to the contact.
"Sonar, go active," ordered Tse who wanted to make no mistake this time. Sonar acknowledged and seconds later the crew could hear the widely spaced pulses of sound from their sonar transmitter.
"Weapons, do you have a firing solution?" asked Tse several minutes later. He knew what the answer would be.
"Yes, Captain," replied the weapons officer in a loud voice.
"Flood tube number Four," commanded Tse. The order was relayed with alacrity, and a minute later Tse received the report that the torpedo tube was ready to be opened.
"Open outer door," said Tse and listened as the heavy metal door of the torpedo tube rumbled open.
"Fire Four," ordered Tse in a firm voice.
"High speed screws, bearing zero, six, zero!" came the excited voice over the intercom.
Golubev's head snapped upright at the news from sonar even though a torpedo launch was expected since hearing that the Chinese sub was using its active sonar. Golubev had a plan, one desperate plan that stood between life and death for the twenty-three men on board. He had done this maneuver before, but never to escape a live torpedo.
As Golubev swung around to give the necessary orders, his gaze swept over his two American companions. Malik was giving him a quizzical look - he didn't understand much Russian. Hendrick had a look of frozen fear on his face - by this time he knew the Russian language well enough.
"Launch acoustic decoy!" Golubev shouted into the sound-powered phone. He knew the decoy wouldn't do much good when the enemy was using active sonar, but it was something to do. He looked up at Hendrick as his voice thundered another order into the phone. "All ahead flank! Give me as much as possible without blowing up the engines!"
Golubev ran a transparent ruler from his sub's position on the chart to the islands of Wu-ch'iu Yu and Hsiao-ch'iu Yu, then transferred the angle of the ruler to the compass rose on another part of the chart.
"Right five degrees rudder!" said Golubev. "Come to course two, six, two."
Malik turned to Hendrick. "What the hell is going on?"
Hendrick shook his head as if in pain. He told Malik about the launch of the Chinese torpedo.
"How are we going to get away from it?" asked Malik in a wavering voice.
Hendrick grimaced. "We're going here," he replied and pointed to the two islands on the chart.
"What? Why?" asked Malik who was totally puzzled.
"Here!" snapped Hendrick. He jabbed a fingernail between the two islands.
"We're going between the two islands?" asked Malik. "Is that bad?"
"Check the depth," said Hendrick.
Malik looked at the sounding number indicating the depth of water between the two small islands.
"Ten point nine meters?" said Malik in disbelief as he read the numbers from the chart. "You're kidding me!"
"I may be, but he's not," said Hendrick and stuck an index finger in the direction of the harried Russian sub captain.
"We're going to be scraping the bottom and the surface at the same time," stated Malik with disbelief in his voice.
"Yes, and if we can get to the other side after dropping another noise maker, then we'll confuse the torpedo," said Hendrick as his head swam with the danger of it. "Maybe it won't come after us."
Malik rubbed his hands over his face. "If. Maybe." He looked at the worried face of Golubev. "Oh, man." Malik gave Hendrick a piercing look. "What's the chances?"
Hendrick shook his head again and said nothing. He stared at the chart. Torpedoes ran at about forty knots, but what could this old tub do? Hendrick guessed maybe twelve to fifteen submerged. That meant the torpedo would cover three times the distance that their sub would cover in the same amount of time. He picked up an idle ruler and measured the distance from the islands to the last hurried pencil mark indicating the estimated position of the Chinese sub. He then measured the distance from their position to the islands. The distances were almost exactly three to one.
Their submarine and the Chinese torpedo would arrive at the two islands at about the same time. It would be very close. There was no margin for error.
The submarine vibrated under their feet as the engineers strained to get every possible bit of power out of their engines. The small crew in the conn fell silent as they all listened to the sounds of the sea washing past the hull and the thrumming of the electric motors that drove the submarine ahead.
Hendrick licked his increasingly dry lips. He was facing death again, but this time he could do nothing about it. He had to place his trust in the old Russian that tensely stood watching and listening to the sounds around him. If he gets us out of this, I won't mind giving him most of the gold, thought Hendrick. All through this mission, Golubev has been magnificent.
"Torpedo has gone active," intoned the sonarman over the intercom.
Golubev swallowed hard and glanced at Hendrick. The American grimaced then nodded to Golubev to show his support. Now that the torpedo was using its active sonar, they both knew that it would be very difficult to maneuver away from the onrushing Chinese weapon.
"Diving officer, make your depth ten meters. Extreme up angle," said Golubev in a loud voice. "Launch acoustic decoy," he added into his phone.
"We'll get sucked up to the surface at this speed," replied the diving officer.
"Adjust the up angle so that we don't," answered Golubev. "We still have to worry about the surface ships." He knew that the sub would send a plume of water into the air as the top of the submarine's sail skimmed the surface, such that a blind man could locate them. The surface ships would no doubt respond quickly. Golubev had one other ruse, one that he would use at the last second.
The submarine ascended at such an acute angle that Hendrick thought he was going to fall out of his chair. Everyone else grabbed on to anything handy and leaned against the angle.
Golubev turned to Hendrick. "I need your GPS receiver. Do you still have it?"
"Yes," said Hendrick and rose to go back to the ROV control station, but Malik shoved him back into his chair and volunteered to get the device. He ran quickly out of the conn.
"I need a position fix before I make my final turn to go between these islands," said Golubev. "At this speed I can not raise the periscope. The water flow around it would bend the shaft."
"It'll bend the GPS antenna," said Hendrick.
"I am hoping to get enough signal to get one reading. One is all I need," said Golubev in a breathless voice.
The diving officer shouted some commands, and the up angle decreased considerably. He was watching the depth gauge and changing the up angle simultaneously to counteract the surface suction effect and avoid popping to the surface.
Moments later the diving officer spoke up. "Depth is ten meters!"
"Good," said Golubev then turned to see Malik enter the conn with the receiver in hand.
Hendrick took the receiver and connected the antenna input to a coaxial cable that hung from the overhead along the starboard bulkhead. Seconds later the display showed stable position numbers.
"Twenty-five degrees, one minute North Latitude, and one hundred nineteen degrees, thirty one minutes East Longitude," shouted Hendrick with anxiety.
Golubev jabbed the pencil point into the chart ripping a small hole in the paper. "Left full rudder," he thundered. "Come to course two, four, two." He glanced at the two Americans who were standing upright. "Hold on to something!"
The helmsman turned the wheel on the control yoke, and the submarine immediately heeled over to the starboard side. The vessel stayed that way for a long moment until the helmsman steadied up on their new course.
"Flood tube numbers seven, eight, and nine!" said Golubev into his sound-powered phone. Thirty seconds later he bellowed, "Open outer doors!"
What is he doing? thought Hendrick. What does he have in the aft torpedo tubes?
Golubev turned to Hendrick. "Keep reading our position!"
Hendrick nodded and began to rattle off the slowly changing coordinates. Sound pulses began to be heard above the humming of the sub's engines and the rush of seawater past the hull. The noise was at first indistinct, then it became clear, sharp slashes of sound that pulsed the submarine with terrifying quickness. The Chinese torpedo was closing in on them with mind-numbing swiftness with its built-in sonar pinging away and receiving ever louder returns reflected from the submarine's hull. Hendrick tried to keep his mind on the readout before him, but the realization of his imminent death obscured everything.
Golubev yelled some minor course corrections, then held his breath waiting for the right position to be read out by Hendrick. The American began reading the next update to the receiver's display, but halfway through Golubev began shouting.
"Launch acoustic decoy!" commanded Golubev. "Fire number seven, eight, and nine!" He choked off a moan with the frozen thought that there was nothing more to be done.
CHAPTER 15
Out of the Strait
The confused rush of compressed air driving the contents of the stern torpedo tubes into the sea echoed throughout the vessel. Through it all, Hendrick heard the ever-increasing sound of the onrushing torpedo's sonar. The frequency of the pings increased until there was no discernible gap from one ping to the next.
Hendrick gasped with fear, rolled his head back, and closed his eyes. There were only seconds now between the present reality and eternity. His mind wandered in confusion, searching for something to hold onto. Maggie Ramsey popped into his mind, and he groped for her, trying to imagine her face, seeking to resurrect the memory of her sliding into him when they had run in from the rain seemingly so long ago. He remembered the feeling of her lithe body next to his, and how she had settled against him for a brief moment before placing a not-so-restraining hand on his chest. He had kissed her, then let her go, and had never regretted anything so much in all his life.
Now I'll never know what it would be like to hold her longer than a few seconds, thought Hendrick. I'll never make love to her.
The torpedo detonated, sending a massive shock wave along the hull of the submarine and throwing men and equipment around like leaves before a hurricane. The deck shook below Hendrick, knocking him off his feet, then the deck seemed to rise up and pound him as he fell. Seconds later the pounding miraculously stopped, the grinding sound of stressed metal slowed, and the submarine seemed to straighten out after being tossed about by the explosion.
Golubev rubbed the side of his head where he had hit the bulkhead, then looked around at his crew. They were shaken but all right. The Russian glanced at Hendrick and Malik who were cautiously picking themselves off the deck plates.
"Captain, the port shaft has been knocked out of line," said a voice over the intercom. "We're shutting that engine down now. The starboard and center engines are all right."
Golubev acknowledged the information from his engineers, knowing that they were lucky that all three shafts weren't misaligned by the torpedo blast. He put the intercom on broadcast mode so that anyone wearing a sound-powered headset would hear him.
"All departments, check for leaks," he ordered.
The crew in the conn began to relax until a scraping noise suddenly was heard above the still straining engines. The submarine began to shudder as the sound slid along the hull past them and continued aft.
"We're running aground!" shouted Hendrick. He shot a fierce look at Golubev.
The Russian captain slowed the engines, which partially alleviated the problem, but the scraping continued as the submarine's keel made contact with the shallow channel's bottom.
"Major leak aft torpedo room!" said an excited and unsteady voice over the intercom.
"All available hands aft!" shouted Golubev. He looked in the direction of Hendrick and Malik. "You too!" he yelled and pointed a stubby finger at them. Golubev shouted to another man to take the conn, then shoved the two Americans through the doorway. The three of them ran aft as fast as their legs could take them.
"Get some mattresses!" shouted Golubev.
Hendrick and Malik detoured into a cabin off the passageway and after a brief search located two sweat-stained mattresses.
"He's not thinking of plugging a hole in the hull with mattresses, is he?" asked Malik in an out-of-breath voice. "I know we do it in surface ships, but in submarines?"
Hendrick just shrugged his shoulders and ran out of the crew's quarters with the unwieldy mattress perched on his head. He and Malik joined a small group of sailors who had various pieces of wood and sheets of plywood in their hands. They all scrambled aft in a frenzy to stop the life threatening leak.
As they drew nearer the aft torpedo room, they could hear Golubev bellowing orders at the top of his lungs. He shouted for the mattresses and Hendrick and Malik stepped through the crowd to squeeze their way into the narrow torpedo room. Golubev dragged a few more sailors into the room then slammed the door and dogged it down.
The roaring of the sea through the hull made the two uninitiated Americans gape at the split metal and wonder how they would ever stem the river of seawater running into the ship. The mattresses were ripped out of their hands by Golubev and another Russian sailor who immediately charged toward the inrushing sea and attempted to press the mattress against the inside hull. Hendrick ran to help Golubev, and Malik went to help the other sailor. They leaned against the water-soaked and now extremely heavy mattresses with the water flowing over and around them while other sailors slid plywood behind the mattresses and under the hands of Hendrick, Golubev and the others.
Two sailors joined the foursome and desperately pressed the plywood against the mattresses, which pushed the bedding against the hull. To Hendrick's surprise, the action reduced the flow of water into the room to a comparative trickle. The remaining sailors in the room placed one end of the wooden beams against metal angle brackets, which were welded to the deck and began nailing the other end of the beams to the backs of the plywood sheets.
After ten minutes of feverish nailing, Hendrick, Malik, Golubev and the rest stepped back from the bedding that now plugged the hole in the hull and surveyed the results. Small streams of water squirted from the edges of the mattresses, but the massive flow they had seen when they entered the space was halted. The water was up to their waists, but two large pumps were working hard to reduce the flooding ultimately to a level below the edge of the watertight door that led forward.
Hendrick understood why Golubev had slammed the door shut after they had entered. He immediately wondered what would have happened if they couldn't stop the leak in the hull. Would Golubev have opened the door to let them out? Or was he one of those crazy submariners that would have sacrificed himself and those in the room to save the ship? Hendrick wasn't sure he wanted the answer.
The water level dropped rapidly as the powerful pumps did their job of ridding the space of the flood. Hendrick's eyes came to rest on a shelf on the starboard side. The long rounded shape of a torpedo was beginning to be seen as the water level dropped.
"Captain, we have torpedoes?" asked Hendrick with surprise.
Golubev nodded solemnly and held up three fingers.
"Three torpedoes," said Hendrick with his eyebrows raised. "Did you launch one out the aft torpedo tubes?"
"Nyet," Golubev replied. "It was something else." A ghost of a smile crept across the old Russian's lips.
HAN 405
Captain Tse looked with satisfaction at the chart where he had marked the explosion of his torpedo. The weapon had caught up to the enemy submarine just as it had reached the northeastern coast of the island of Wu-ch'iu Yu. The torpedo would not have detonated if it hadn't found a target but would have gone back into passive mode as the first torpedo had done.
Now all I have to do is look for confirmation of the kill, Tse thought. He turned and glanced at the communications officer as the officer held out a message. Tse took it and read it quickly. He forced himself to slow down and read it again. A broad smile swept his face. He stepped to the intercom and set it to broadcast throughout the vessel.
"Crew of the 405, hear me!" said Tse in an excited voice. "Our comrades on the surface report an oil slick and debris at the exact location of the detonation of our torpedo! We have victory over one of our nation's enemies!"
Captain Tse smiled to the crew of the conn as he heard cheers echo throughout his ship.
Golubev ran ahead to the conn to assess the tactical situation. He found that they had put some distance between them and the Chinese forces and were using the islands of Wu-ch'iu Yu and Hsiao-ch'iu Yu as a sound shield. Golubev was pleased and told everyone that he thought they might make good their escape. He spent some time getting the trim of the boat just right then let out a sigh of relief. Golubev had just explained to Hendrick and Malik about the contents of the aft torpedo tubes.
"I don't believe it," said Malik under his breath and shook his head. "It's an old World War Two trick. How many times have we seen it in those old movies?"
"Yeah, but will it work?" asked Hendrick.
"They are not coming after us," was Golubev's simple reply.
"What happens when they find out that there is no sunken submarine under all the junk you shot out the aft tubes?" asked Hendrick.
"We will no longer be here," answered Golubev.
"What made the torpedo go off?" asked Malik.
"There is a sunken ship very near that location which gives a similar sonar return as a submarine," said Golubev. "We passed close by this wreck and ejected an acoustic decoy to mask our travel past it. The torpedo thought it had a submarine when it went off."
"How long will that mattress patch hold in the aft torpedo room?" asked Malik, changing the subject.
Golubev shrugged. "When we get to your island, we will put a cofferdam around it and weld a plate on the inside to seal it. I will have a twenty-four hour a day watch on it to make sure it does not come apart."
Hendrick's thoughts turned to the torpedoes he had seen in the aft torpedo room.
"How on earth did you get torpedoes?" asked Hendrick.
"I cashed in a lot of favors to get them," replied Golubev. "I thought we might need it on this mission."
"Why didn't you launch a torpedo at the Chinese?" asked Hendrick.
Golubev shrugged again. "They don't work."
An hour later, Hendrick lay exhausted in his bunk and thought over the events of their horrendous day. He had come close to getting killed several times. Just before he fell asleep, he thought of Maggie Ramsey.
Strange, he thought. I've seen her almost in her birthday suit, but the most vivid memory that I have of her is when we ran in from the rain together.
Maggie Ramsey closed her eyes as Li Tai Su, her constant attendant, rubbed suntan lotion over Maggie's bare bottom. Maggie could hear the shouts and calls of Chang's men as they went about the day's business on the large yacht. Chang had ordered a cloth partition be set up around the top of the wheel house so that none of the men could see Maggie sunbathe in the nude. He didn't want the sight of Maggie to inflame their passions, as he put it, and start a riot on board. Indeed not many of the men knew she was up there at all.
Under any other circumstances Maggie's life on board Chang's yacht would have been fabulous. They fed her anything she wanted, and a lot she didn't want. Apparently Chang felt that she was a bit too skinny to bring the best price in case he had to sell her, so he ordered her to eat heartily. She complied readily for the lack of any other alternative, and out of fear of what Chang would do to her if he thought she were no longer fit to sell. She had gained ten pounds, which she had resolved to lose immediately if and when she escaped from Chang and his men.
She did nothing all day except sunbathe and have lotions rubbed into her skin to make it more smooth and supple. All in all, she was being pampered beyond her wildest dreams. But she wasn't free, and that was everything.
One of the crew shouted something up to Li Tai Su in some strange dialect of Chinese that Maggie couldn't understand. She had taken Oriental languages in college and had learned Japanese and a fair amount of Chinese, but there were parts of the far eastern world where the Chinese was unintelligible. Li Tai Su said something back to the man then went over to Maggie to rouse her.
"Miss Ramsey, put on your clothes," she said.
Maggie opened one eye and rotated her head around to look at her female custodian.
"I was just getting used to the sun roasting my butt yet one more time," said Maggie in annoyance.
"Come on," said Li pleasantly. "Mister Yum has some news for you."
Maggie sat up and pulled a shirt over her torso. "News? What is it?" They had been waiting for word from her stepfather about the ransom demanded for her release.
Maggie slipped on a thin pair of slacks and sat in a chair facing aft. She looked around carefully but saw only the stark blue-green of the sea with a small island on the horizon. No chance to escape here, she thought. She was used to disappointment as she constantly looked in vain for a chance to escape over the past month.
Yum climbed up to the top deck and walked casually toward Maggie. He stood and made inane pleasantries, talking about how wonderful the sky looked and what a beautiful day it was.
"Get to the point, Yum," demanded Maggie. "How much is Nagata willing to pay?"
Yum suddenly stopped talking and gave her a look bordering on compassion. "I'm afraid, dear girl, he's not willing to pay anything."
Maggie's reaction to the devastating news was one of acceptance. She was not surprised that her stepfather wouldn't pay. This well-known captain of industry was also the head of the Defense Intelligence Headquarters created a few years ago to centralize Japanese intelligence gathering. He was adhering to the policy held by most nations not to deal with terrorists, although one had to stretch a point to consider a criminal like Chang a terrorist.
There was something else. Nagata had been wholly uninterested in Maggie from the beginning, acting as if she did not exist. He had her mother acting that way as well, almost from the moment he had started seeing her. She bit her lip at the thought.
"Lord Chang was disappointed briefly but has decided to sell you for a great price," replied Yum as he studied her face.
Maggie was relieved to hear of her impending sale. She was to be one of the unusual ones, a woman not immediately brutalized by him and his men. Apparently Chang was afraid that she might contract some venereal diseases, which would either kill the deal or lower the price. Chang didn't want to cross whoever her prospective buyer was. But it only postponed the brutality.
"Chang's an animal," said Maggie with conviction.
"You are lucky that Lord Chang cannot understand English, or you might not be so lucky to just be sold," replied Li. "Think of the future." Li rubbed Maggie's back to soothe her. She pointed to the island on the horizon. "There is Itbayat Island where we will meet your Stephen Hendrick once again."
Maggie groaned to herself. If only she could have kept that information to herself! But she had already revealed that she wanted to go to Itbayat Island to the three thugs in the Taipei hotel. The pirates had threatened all manner of disgusting treatment, and she had caved in immediately. She bit her lip again in agony over her cowardice. Would her lack of courage lead to Hendrick's death? Or would he be able to save her from Chang?
"Itbayat Island," said Li Tai Su slowly as if the name itself held some sort of magic. "Then you will be off to a life of leisure and contentment after we find someone for you."
"A life of rape, you mean," growled Maggie.
"It will be very pleasant, you'll see," said Li. "You will get used to it."
Never, thought Maggie as her gaze locked on to the island on the horizon. Yes, Itbayat Island, she thought. Hendrick will be there.
Maybe there was hope.
CHAPTER 16
Itbayat Island
Steve Hendrick leaned over the thick railing on the top of the superstructure of the old Golf class submarine. The warm waters of the northern Luzon Strait slid by the vessel's sides as the sub's hull efficiently parted the waves at ten knots. The throbbing of the diesel engines filled the air around the vessel as they made their way on the surface to the southeast toward their rendezvous with the ship he had chartered to haul the Awa Maru's treasure back to the States.
The sea air acted like a tonic to him, and he breathed it deeply to counteract the effects of the long time they had been submerged. Dodging torpedoes and depth charges, any one of which could have killed them instantly, had jangled his nerves to the point of exhaustion. He and every member of the crew were glad to get away with their lives and whatever treasure they had accumulated.
Hendrick glanced aft at the decompression chamber that was attached to the top part of the hull just aft of the submarine's sail. It was a miracle that Golubev and his Russian crew hadn't found the bank notes he and Joe Malik had hidden there just before they got run out of town by the PRC Navy. How much money did that represent? Was any of it intact after over sixty years underwater?
Joe Malik climbed out of the hatch near the front of the open bridge and walked down the starboard side toward Hendrick. He had a calculator in his hand.
"I just got done counting," said Malik with a twisted smile on his face. Hendrick knew that meant his friend was happy about something and mad at something else.
"One hundred sixty-five crates of gold bars," began Malik. "At six bars apiece. Plus another eighty-four loose gold bars. Twenty-seven and a half pounds apiece at about fifteen hundred dollars an ounce." He held the calculator display up for Hendrick to see.
The number on the display was over seven hundred million dollars! Hendrick grabbed the calculator and stared at the huge number. He gave the calculator back to Malik and hugged him with all his might. They both laughed out loud. Golubev who was ten feet away at the front of the bridge looked over his shoulder briefly at the two gleeful Americans. He gave them a half smile and turned back around.
"Of course, we don't get it all," said Malik with a stern look at his partner. "Remember the deal you made with the Russians?"
Hendrick nodded ruefully. "All right. All right. So what's thirty five percent of seven hundred million?"
Malik punched in a number and stared at the calculator's display. "A skosh under two hundred fifty million."
"Not a bad return on investment," said Hendrick with a broad smile. "The Russian crew performed magnificently, especially Captain Golubev. They deserve a share of the treasure."
Malik mumbled to himself for a moment then gave in. "Yeah, I suppose so." He punched in a few more numbers and looked at the display once again. "After we split with the divers and the crew that will haul the gold back to the States, we'll have about sixty million apiece."
"So, you're sixty million richer than a month ago," said Hendrick. "So, what do you have to be sad about?"
A smile worked its way on to Malik's face. "Well, if you put it that way -"
Hendrick slapped his partner on the back and got a wide smile from Malik in return.
"Stephen," said a voice behind Hendrick. He turned and looked at Golubev.
"Itbayat Island," said Golubev simply and offered Hendrick the binoculars.
Hendrick took the glasses, walked up to the forward part of the bridge, and centered his view on the large island that was just a few degrees off the starboard bow. Itbayat Island is roughly eleven miles long by four miles wide and lies in a northeast-southwest direction. Hendrick could see that the island had two peaks, one at either end of the island. The mountain on the northern end of the island, Mount Santa Rosa, was about nine hundred feet high, and Mount Riposet to the south was approximately seven hundred fifty feet high. The island appeared to be a solid mass of green except for one or two brown spots, which were landing areas or cultivated fields - he couldn't make out which. The island was occupied by only a few inhabitants.
Golubev gave out an abrupt order in Russian, then translated it for the Americans. "Clear bridge," he said and gestured to the hatch.
Hendrick nodded. The plan was to approach the island as inconspicuously as possible. He followed Malik back into the depths of the submarine with the Russian crewmembers on their heels.
Golubev took the sub down to one hundred feet and leveled off. After an hour of running submerged, he slowed the boat and ran up the periscope, examining the island's northern coast. When he arrived at a predetermined point, Golubev ordered a course change to the south to traverse the deep channel on the eastern side of the island. He gave Hendrick a glance and offered him a look through the periscope. Hendrick readily accepted and peered through the scope at the rugged coastline of Itbayat Island.
The edges of the island were marked by high cliffs that made any sort of landing impossible along most of the coast. They were presently heading toward the only landing spot on the east coast, a point about one mile northeast of Mount Riposet on the southern third of the island. Another landing spot was on the southern coast and two more on the western side of the island. None of the landing places were sheltered harbors. When planning the project months ago, Hendrick and Malik had decided to make the transfer of treasure from the submarine to the ship as quickly as possible. The Russian crew agreed for the very practical reasons that the sub had limited range and they didn't want to stray too far into the Western Pacific.
Hendrick took one last look around and turned the periscope back to Golubev who needed to take bearings from various navigational points in order to pilot the sub into the landing area. He walked over to the chart and studied the island. The plan had been to stay submerged and wait for the ship from the States to arrive. They had made a call earlier, and the ship's master told him that he was about a day away from Itbayat. Everything was on schedule. This was the easy part.
Golubev bellowed out a series of orders in Russian, and his conning crew took bearings and recorded range to the two main navigational points in the area, Ruducaen Point which jutted out from the east coast of the island, and Diogo Island to the southeast, which was little more than a volcano that had pushed its way up from the sea.
A half hour later Golubev gave the order to stop engines, then turned to Hendrick. "We have to surface to repair the leak in the aft torpedo room." The old Russian wanted to surface right away rather than wait until Hendrick's ship arrived.
"I understand," replied Hendrick. "I hope the Philippine Navy won't detect us here. They might not understand that we're not a threat to them."
"Yes, it is a risk, but I have no choice," said Golubev.
Hendrick nodded in resignation. A new thought struck him. "Captain, we can unload the gold while you're repairing the leak. It'll save time and with my other ship so close by, it'll be minimal risk to us that anyone will see what we have."
"Da! It is good," said the Russian with a brief smile. He turned and gave orders to surface while Hendrick and Malik went off to organize the unloading of their share of the treasure.
The submarine broke the surface, and Golubev was the first, as always, to open the hatch and climb to the bridge. A half dozen men came out of the hatches in the forward and aft parts of the narrow outside deck and ran to the extremes of the ship to handle the lines. Golubev expertly maneuvered the vessel alongside the small, narrow pier that stuck out from the island and watched with satisfaction as his men tied the ship to the pier without him giving any orders at all.
The rickety pier was barely a hundred feet long while the submarine was in excess of three hundred feet in length, leaving two thirds of the ship sticking out into the channel. Golubev shook his head as he surveyed the short pier but reasoned that he would be there only as long as it took to repair the leak and to unload the gold. The Americans would then be on their own, and he would return to Russia a very rich man. His share would be in excess of thirty million American dollars. In Russia these days, that sort of money would make a man obscenely rich. He smiled at the thought and found that he couldn't stop smiling. He heard movement behind him.
Loshak and Drukarev approached with their eyes fixed on him. They had something on their mind, and he could not ignore them. Golubev knew who they were - SVR agents on some sort of mission. They had carefully looked over every article that Hendrick's divers had brought back from the wreck of the Awa Maru. They had been looking for something, something they hadn't found. Loshak spoke up - he was obviously the leader of the two.
"Captain," began Loshak. "Why have you agreed to stop here?"
Golubev gave him a cold stare before he replied. "We must repair our hull, and the Americans have to unload their share of the gold."
Loshak took a step closer. Golubev could smell the man's fetid breath.
"That gold would be better used in Russia's treasury," said Loshak in a low voice.
"You want me to violate the agreement I made with Hendrick?" asked Golubev as he tried to assess how adamant Loshak was about taking the gold from the Americans.
"We need your cooperation and your men's cooperation in this," said Loshak in a louder voice.
Golubev leaned forward so close to Loshak's face that the younger man backed away slightly.
"What's the matter, Comrade?" asked Golubev through his teeth. "The two of you don't want to go up against the Americans alone?"
"It will make matters much easier if you cooperate," said Loshak defensively.
"Listen to me, both of you," growled Golubev. "Back in Russia you have some power no doubt, but here -" The old Russian pointed violently to the deck. "- here I am the law! There will be no stealing of gold from these Americans. I gave them my word, and that is the way it will be!"
Loshak studied the captain, his eyes working him over furiously. Golubev held his stare and leaned even closer to the intelligence agent until Loshak relented, and the two agents walked away in frustration.
Golubev knew his tactic was a calculated risk, but he knew the crew would follow him rather than these two SVR agents. The SVR was less than popular due to its progenitor, the infamous KGB who was hated more by the Russian people than anyone.
Golubev watched the men's backs as they disappeared through the hatch to go below decks. He also knew he hadn't heard the last from Loshak and Drukarev.
"Thirty-five percent of one thousand seventy-four bars of gold is three hundred seventy-six bars," said Joe Malik with a glance at his calculator. "That's sixty-three crates. We'll leave the loose gold bars to Golubev."
"We have to lug sixty-three crates weighing one hundred sixty-five pounds each up from deep inside the sub?" asked Hendrick incredulously. He looked about impatiently as they stood on the narrow outside deck of the submarine. They could hear the crew preparing the cofferdam to be fitted over the crack in the sub's hull so that it could be welded from inside.
Malik shrugged and gave his partner an annoyed look. "I told you we should have had a better plan for offloading the sub. If we asked the Russians, they'll want ten crates in payment. Let's see, that's -"
"I don't care how much it is. I'm not going to pay it," declared Hendrick, his voice rising. "We'll get Howard and the divers to help us."
Malik squinted at the failing light in the waning day and wrinkled up his nose. "Better wait until tomorrow, otherwise we'll have to guard the gold all night."
"It had better be the crack of dawn," grumbled Hendrick.
Malik took a step closer to Hendrick and eyed him conspiratorially. "Have you given any thought to our other problem?" His eyes flicked to the decompression chamber attached to the deck behind the submarine's sail.
Hendrick scratched his chin, thought for a moment, and shrugged. "God only knows how much is there, or what condition the bank notes are in. The gold has to be the first priority then ..." His train of thought petered out.
"We can't just leave it there," said Malik.
"No, we'll get it somehow," replied Hendrick. "We'll create a diversion to get the crew away for a while, then we'll get it."
Malik created a sideways glance by turning his head while keeping his eyes on Hendrick. The movement conveyed Malik's disbelief at Hendrick's ghost of a plan.
Hendrick shook his head and wondered how this had become such a dangerous game. What would the Russians do if they caught them taking more treasure from the submarine? He and Malik could very well walk away from this adventure with nothing.
"Joe, tomorrow when we unload the gold," began Hendrick in a low voice. "Everyone wears a weapon."
Lin Ju-Ya peered through the binoculars from his perch in a palm tree on the side of the hill overlooking the landing. The submarine seemed to be resting for the night except for the busy crewmembers aft who were obviously, even to Lin's untrained eyes, trying to repair something on the side of the sub away from him. He looked them over for a while then shifted his gaze to the man on the top of the superstructure whom he thought to be the captain. The man wasn't giving any orders but just watching the progress of the men who were working aft. No one seemed to be ready to leave anytime soon.
Lin shifted his large bulk around to ease the pressure of the tree branch on one side of his buttocks. He centered the view in his glasses on the two men quietly conversing on the deck near the forward hatch. One was small compared to Lin but had the look and the eyes of a tiger. The other was large, almost the same size as Lin. After a few moments Lin had to admit that the Westerner would be a significant enemy if they engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Lin had the edge in size, but the man on the submarine looked strong and fit.
Was he the formidable Stephen Hendrick who had resisted several of their attacks the previous year and had killed a number of their men? Lin didn't know for sure, but he had always imagined Hendrick to be a large, menacing man, much like the one he was looking at now.
The smell of cigarette smoke drifted through the trees, interrupting his thoughts. Lin looked over his right shoulder downward at the top of Xu Po-Rong, Lord Chang's most able lieutenant. He was small and smoked incessantly, but he also left no doubt in anyone's mind that he held Chang's continuous favor, thereby securing Xu's authority and respect. When Xu spoke, Chang spoke.
Xu suddenly looked upward as if realizing for the first time that he was being watched. He put an impatient expression on his face. "Lin, what are they doing?"
"Not much activity at all," replied Lin. "They are repairing something on the other side. There are only a few men topside. One is carrying a rifle and pacing up and down the deck. The rest must be inside the submarine."
"Have they unloaded anything?" asked Xu.
"No, not yet, and they don't appear to be preparing to unload either," answered Lin.
"They are probably waiting until tomorrow," mumbled Xu. He raised eyes to Lin once again. "Come down."
The bulky Lin obligingly slid down the trunk of the tree and waited expectantly for Xu's next orders. Xu raised a two-way radio to his lips and informed Chang of the status of the submarine. Chang, who was anchored just on the other side of Diogo Island four miles to the southeast, ordered him to stay there until another watch party arrived to relieve them.
When Xu finished talking to Chang, Lin asked a question in a respectful voice.
"Why are we not attacking them now? They would be surprised," asked Lin.
Xu turned and looked patiently at the much larger Lin. "They could submerge and get away."
"We could sink them," said Lin proudly.
"And then send you down one hundred meters to pick up all that treasure," said Xu in a fatherly voice. "It's better to let them unload the treasure then take it away from them."
Lin smiled and nodded.
CHAPTER 17
Drawing Fire
Steve Hendrick and Joe Malik climbed the ladder through the forward hatch and onto the deck of the submarine. They stretched and looked around in the early morning light, noting the armed guard that still patrolled the deck and the man up on the bridge at the top of the sail. The two Americans glanced around to watch Ian Howard and the rest of the divers climb up on deck and rub the sleep from their eyes. Hendrick looked each of them over and noted that they all had a firearm strapped to their waist in compliance with his wishes. He fully expected that Golubev and his crew would want to set sail immediately after he got his share of the gold out of the submarine.
The last two divers out of the hatch brought poles and a winch, and quickly set up the tripod over the hatch. They then connected the winch to the apex of the tripod. They returned inside the submarine and came back with two long wooden planks to be set up across the gap between the sub's outer deck and the pier, forming a crude gangway.
Hendrick shook his head and turned to Malik. "There must be an easier way to do this."
Malik shrugged. "This is the way we decided upon when we planned the mission. Maybe if we had been sure we were going to get all this gold, we would have picked a better method, but for now this is all we've got. We're damn lucky the cases fit through this hatch. They didn't fit through the airlock - that's why we had to go through the torpedo tubes."
"Yeah, all right. Let's get to it," said Hendrick in resignation.
The rest of the divers went down below to haul the gold from various places throughout the submarine to a position just below the hatch. They then placed the each case in a sling and Hendrick, Malik, and Howard lifted the cases on deck using the chain driven winch. The wooden cases were the kind that had ropes attached to each end, but the long underwater stay had rotted the ropes so that many had disappeared completely, and the others only had a few deteriorated strands left.
They picked the case up and, grasping it awkwardly due to the lack of any convenient handhold, carefully took it down the gangway whose thin boards bounced up and down under their weight. They cautiously stepped onto the pier, going to an area about thirty yards from the submarine. Hendrick, Malik, and the divers worked steadily for three hours while Malik kept count of the number of cases they were unloading. One of Golubev's men also kept count from a position inside the sub below the hatch.
Malik took a step closer to Hendrick after dropping a case on the steadily growing pile they were making and lowered his voice. "Have you thought more about how we're going to get the bank notes out of the decompression chamber?"
Hendrick wiped the sweat from his forehead with his shirtsleeve and shook his head. "We've got to come up with a diversion somehow."
"Well you'd better think fast because we're almost done here," said Malik in a hushed voice. "We're at fifty-nine cases now with only four to go."
They both heard a cracking sound from the interior of the island and turned toward the noise. Something slammed into the wooden cases in front of them with a frenzied burst of energy, ripping off a piece of wood and sending splinters into the air around them. Hendrick leaped behind the cases but not before he felt the concussion of a bullet whizzing by an inch from his ear. Malik landed next to him and looked about in shock. They both peered around the cases and saw several men on the side of the hill that rose from the landing toward the mountain a mile to the southwest.
Malik pulled out his sidearm and prepared to return fire. "Well, we got our diversion."
Hendrick yanked his automatic out of his holster and took off the safety. "You could have picked an island with friendlier natives," he retorted. They both rolled in opposite directions toward the ends of the stack of cases and fired several quick shots toward the men on the hill. They immediately rolled back behind the cases and looked toward the submarine.
Golubev's guard on the deck was huddled behind the sub's sail and was returning fire with intermittent throaty bursts from his AK47. Ian Howard had managed to make it over behind the guard and was firing a few shots as well.
Suddenly a large burst of well-aimed gunfire hit the sail and the area surrounding Howard and the Russian guard. The Russian dropped his weapon and fell over sideways behind the sail while Howard ducked behind the sub's large superstructure. The AK47 slid down the curved hull until it disappeared into the water with a splash. The gunfire let up, and Howard reached out, dragging the partially exposed Russian behind the sail. He bent over the man for several moments then looked toward Hendrick and slowly shook his head.
Hendrick and Malik cringed under a fresh burst of gunfire from what were fully automatic assault rifles.
"They - whoever they are - have assault rifles and we have these?" said Malik as he held his nine-millimeter automatic handgun in front of him. "Man, what chance have we got?"
"Golubev's got some AK47s," replied Hendrick.
"Yeah, and one of them just went into the drink," said Malik. "So what's he got left? One, two maybe."
"You're such an optimist, Joe," said Hendrick with a scowl. He looked over their situation and didn't like it. The cases of gold formed a stack of about six feet wide by four feet tall. With enough gunfire, their assailants could shred the wooden cases and the gold as well, until he and Malik were totally exposed. The stack was in the middle of a small clearing about twenty yards in diameter flanked by small, scrubby bushes which provided no cover at all. Hendrick estimated that they would have to run at least thirty yards to get to the cover of a clump of palm trees off to their right. They couldn't stay, and they couldn't go.
He eyed the way to the sub and judged it to be even longer than the thirty yards to the palm trees, as well as having too many sharp turns that would delay them. He grabbed Malik's elbow and told him that they should escape to their right into the cluster of thick palm trees. Malik looked at him as if he were crazy.
Another long burst of gunfire slammed into the stack of gold in front of them sending a blizzard of wood and gold splinters into the air. Hendrick felt Malik twitch violently behind him. The burst stopped as their assailants reloaded.
"I'm hit," said Malik through clenched teeth.
Hendrick looked him over with a feeling of dread. He could see a small red spot on Malik's right calf. Hendrick pulled up Malik's pants leg, took out his handkerchief and pressed it into the wound.
"Looks like you're not going anywhere," said Hendrick, his small reserve of optimism fading quickly. He tied the handkerchief around Malik's leg then pressed his back to the stack of gold bracing for the next blast from their attackers.
"Stephen Hendrick," the amplified voice echoed between the line of trees and the submarine's superstructure.
Malik gave Hendrick a pained look. "Friend of yours?"
Hendrick shrugged and peered around the pile of gold.
"Hendrick, we know you have recovered the treasure from the Awa Maru," said the increasingly familiar voice among the trees. "Turn over the treasure, and we will let all of you live."
"Where have I heard that voice before?" asked Hendrick
"Come now, Mr. Hendrick," said Yum through the megaphone. "Surely your life is not worth mere money."
"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Hendrick as the voice clicked in his mind. The last time he had heard the voice, it had been demanding his surrender. "I think it's Chang's people!"
Malik screwed up his face in disbelief. "Chang? What the hell is he doing here?"
Hendrick pointed to the stack of precious metal in front of them. "Gold, remember?"
"How the hell did he find out about all this?" asked Malik in a fury.
"Can't worry about that now. The fact is that he did, and now he's here to take it away from us," said Hendrick. He looked around quickly. "Maybe we can get out of here while he's still talking."
"You can, but I'm not going anywhere," said Malik, pointing to his wounded leg.
Hendrick grabbed Malik under his shoulder and put his other arm under his partner's legs. "C'mon, I'll carry you," said Hendrick.
Malik wiggled out of his grasp. "No, you won't, you idiot! You won't get two feet with me on top of you. Take off by yourself."
"And leave you here?" asked Hendrick.
"Don't worry about it," replied Malik. "You'll draw fire away from me." He raised his eyebrows. "A lot of fire."
Hendrick peered around the side of the boxes. "Maybe I can flank them."
They heard two cracks in the distance. One bullet hit the pile of boxes above Hendrick's head, ripping of a large piece of wood and sending it ten feet behind them. The second bullet passed by an inch from Hendrick's neck. He quickly pulled his head back behind cover.
"Good thing for you that they're not very good shots," observed Malik. Yum's voice interrupted what he was going to say next.
"You will signify that you agree to surrender the treasure by throwing your weapons out into the open where we can see them," said Yum in his smooth manner. "But we are not unreasonable. So, Mr. Hendrick, we will give you some time to think it over." There was a short pause. "You have fifteen seconds, then you will die."
"This is just terrific," said Malik.
The seconds ticked by too quickly. "Time's up," said Yum in a satisfied sounding voice. An elongated burst of gunfire erupted on the heels of Yum's pronouncement, which shredded more wood and gold from the stack in front of Hendrick and Malik, causing them to jam their eyes shut.
Another sound of gunfire from a different direction made Hendrick open his eyes a crack to discover its source. He looked at the submarine's bridge at the top of the sail. There was old Golubev with an AK47 firing away at Chang's pirates. The burly Russian had thrown in his lot with Hendrick and Malik. Hendrick wondered why he hadn't just submerged and sailed away, leaving the two Americans to their fate. The gunfire that had been directed toward Hendrick and Malik was now redirected toward Golubev.
"Talk about drawing fire," said Malik in a respectful voice.
Now is the time to move, thought Hendrick. "Keep your head down," he said to Malik while maneuvering over him to get to the right side of the boxes. Hendrick took a deep breath, leaped out from behind the boxes, and ran for all he was worth toward the cover of the palm trees some thirty yards away.
He fully expected a barrage of lead in his direction when he was halfway there, but none came. He gave quick thanks for his now fast friend, Golubev, and prayed that nothing would happen to him. With ten yards to go, the now constant gunfire seemed to change in tone. He knew that he had been spotted, and that they were now firing at him and not Golubev.
A stream of gunfire stitched its way along the ground behind his rapidly pumping legs. He felt something tear across his back as if someone had cut him with a machete. Five yards to go. His breath came in intermittent rips of sound as he took desperate gulps of air. He put every ounce of energy into his legs.
Two yards to the trees. He flung himself through the air with bullets whizzing above and below him within inches of his body.
Hendrick landed with a thump behind two palm trees with thick trunks. The gunfire peppered the trees with lead, sending bits of the tree and bullet fragments showering down around him. Hendrick buried his face in his arms and tried to get his breathing back to normal. Every time he flexed his back muscles a bolt of pain shot through him. After a few moments his breathing returned halfway to normal, and the pain across his back subsided somewhat. The gunfire abated, and Hendrick peered back over his shoulder toward Malik who was still behind the stack of gold. His friend gave him a short wave. Hendrick nodded then glanced at Golubev who lifted the barrel of his assault rifle over the edge of the sub's superstructure and began to unload another clip toward the pirates.
Hendrick took the opportunity to move further to his right into more dense vegetation, then started to work his way inland in the general direction of the pirates. He gingerly felt his back and found that a bullet had skimmed his flesh cutting a shallow furrow in his skin. There wasn't much blood, and he could feel the blood clotting quickly.
Hendrick checked his weapon and ammunition. The clip in the gun was half full, and he had one fresh clip in his pocket. Not a lot of ammo to go into a firefight with God knows how many men, thought Hendrick. But I have to relieve the pressure on Joe so he can get out of there. He pressed on, working his way uphill with new determination as the sounds of continuing gunfire filtered through the increasingly dense undergrowth.
The gunfire ceased abruptly as both sides took time to reload. The crashing sounds of branches being pushed back, and legs and feet colliding with the brush floated to him on the suddenly still air of the island. Hendrick froze in his tracks, his eyes frantically searching the brush and trees in front of him for the source of the noise. He stepped quietly behind a tree and peered around its trunk at the oncoming men as they hacked and mangled their way through the jungle. He saw a head bobbing among the green of the vegetation on the island and blinked quickly at the sight of a brightly colored red and gold bandana on the man's forehead. Two other men appeared through the brush following the first.
The three men broke free of a particularly thick part of the vegetation and walked clear of the clinging jungle for a short space. Hendrick got a good look at each one of them.
The three pirates wore green fatigues and had the signature bandanas on their heads. All three had scraggly mustaches barely seen against their dark reddish skin. They all carried AK47s. High cheekbones, intense eyes, and cruel mouths gave Hendrick a chill. He recognized two of them as his adversaries in the Taiwan Strait last year. Now they would face each other one more time. Hendrick knew he had barely won last time.
The pirates were trying to do exactly what he was trying to do, outflank the enemy. Hendrick turned to go with the vague realization that he had waited too long, the approaching men were too close. Hendrick ducked down and moved away from the tree as silently and as quickly as he dared.
Someone gave a shout close behind him, and Hendrick realized with a sinking feeling that he had been spotted. He raced for a thick clump of brush and leaped into it just as an automatic weapon opened up behind him. Hendrick hit the ground and crawled as fast as his hands and legs could propel him through the brush as bullets flew through the branches a foot above his head.
Hendrick heard an abrupt cease fire and added it up quickly. They want to capture me first, he thought. He leaped to his feet and ran frantically through the brush to escape his pursuers.
Let's see what shape they're in, Hendrick thought as he turned and ran straight up a steep slope. The jungle thickened and the visibility was reduced to about five feet. He flailed away in a frenzy at the branches that hung in his path and desperately tried to keep up his frantic pace through the undergrowth, but he was forced to slow down due to the sheer density of the jungle. Insects flocked around him as he disturbed their homes, but he ignored them for fear of slowing too much if he took time to swing at them.
Hendrick could hear the brush crashing under the onslaught of the men behind him. One, he thought, was very close by, although he knew if he turned to look, he would see only the jungle closing back behind him, the branches and vines returning to their previously undisturbed positions. That also means, he thought, that they can't see me either.
Hendrick turned to his right to vary his direction in an effort to confuse his assailants. Branches slapped at him and vines curled around him all in a conspiracy to slow him to meet his doom. He looked over his shoulder to see where his closest attacker was. All he saw were the shaking leaves and bending branches where he had just been.
Hendrick turned and ran with renewed vigor until a thick vine slapped across his chest. He strained against it, feeling it give way as he flung himself through the next clump of brush. He burst through the undergrowth to brilliant sunlight and the blue sea over a hundred feet below. Hendrick desperately tried to halt his progress, but his feet skidded on the wet, slimy jungle floor. He began to fall over the edge of one of the island's highest cliffs which jutted up from the water's edge.
He twisted frantically and swung his arms out to grab something, anything to arrest his momentum which was taking him over the cliff. He got hold of a thin branch and pulled in a panic, ripping the branch free from its painfully thin trunk. His hands flailed about, dropping his handgun, which bounced off the edge of the cliff and sailed outward to its watery grave a hundred feet below. He finally closed his hands around the vine that still lay across his chest. He gripped the vine, praying that it would hold him long enough so he could scramble back from the brink.
Hendrick pulled frantically on the vine and felt it give. He teetered for an instant, then slipped over the edge of the cliff.
CHAPTER 18
The Deal
Steve Hendrick frantically pulled on the vine that was his only hope of avoiding being smashed on the rocks below. He fell a quick ten feet, then the vine tightened around the trunk of a tree, nearly jolting itself from Hendrick's panicked grip by the downward momentum of his body.
Hendrick hung swaying below the edge of the cliff with simultaneous relief and alarm flooding through him. He swung his legs around in an effort to grip the vine with his limbs but found that the vine was too short. Only an iron grip saved him from a quick death.
He saw movement, desperate movement above him. He heard a gasp of disbelief from above, then a body flashed by him along with a shower of small rocks and jungle debris. Hendrick watched him fall until he was about halfway down then looked away to start the laborious hand-over-hand climb up the vine.
Hendrick had just begun a prayer that the vine would hold together long enough when he heard a sickening thud from his assailant's impact on the rocks below. He paused with the fleeting thought that, but for the vine and the grace of God, there would have been two bodies at the foot of the cliff instead of just one. The victim hadn't uttered a sound except that one breathless gasp as he flew by Hendrick. He thought that the movies had it all wrong with people screaming as they fell to their death. Maybe they were too scared, or too surprised to scream. Hendrick scrambled up with strong hand-over-hand movements and with his feet alternately grabbing then slipping off the side of the cliff.
He hauled himself over the edge and crawled quickly back from the precipice. His breath came in gasps of relief as he lay among the dense foliage trying to recover from his brush with death. With any luck, he thought grimly, the other two will fall over the edge as well.
The sounds of the brush being roughly parted came to Hendrick through the thick jungle and snapped him alert. He strained his eyes toward the sound, thinking he saw a patch of green move between the leaves of the vines, bushes, and trees. The movement wasn't ten feet from him. Hendrick reached instinctively for his handgun and immediately found an empty holster. The vision of the weapon dropping to the sea below flashed through his mind. He froze, held his breath and listened to the sounds move off parallel to the cliff.
It looks like they won't fall into the same trap as their other unfortunate friend, thought Hendrick. Too bad. I can't confront anyone without a gun. Time to leave while they're headed the wrong way. He dragged himself to his feet and staggered off inland to see what was happening to Joe Malik and the rest of his shipmates.
He tried not to make noise, but just the motion of his body against the leaves and vines seemed to send up a racket. Periodically he stopped and listened intently to determine if anyone was following him. He heard only the sounds of birds, insects, and the muffled rattle of gunfire from the war that was still raging over the fortune in gold they had recovered from the Awa Maru.
Halfway down the hill he had so recently traveled, he stopped to listen again. After a few minutes he parted the branches in front of him and almost walked into the barrel of a gun. He gasped with surprise and immediately turned to run. The rifle barrel smashed into the side of his face, sending him stumbling over a loose rock and falling heavily to the ground. Hendrick's eyes flicked up to the man standing over him. The man was a very large stranger.
Another smaller man stepped out of the brush and muttered something in Chinese to the larger man. The big man nodded and gave him a deferential reply. Hendrick stared at the small man and knew he had seen him before but couldn't remember the circumstances.
The big man turned his attention to Hendrick. He reached down with one huge hand and grabbed Hendrick by the front of his shirt. With one movement he dragged Hendrick to his feet. The two Chinese men looked him over then smiled at Hendrick and each other.
"Thanks," said Hendrick sarcastically. "Do you speak English? I forget the Chinese word for thank you." He grimaced at his rapidly swelling cheek.
"You are welcome," replied Xu to Hendrick's surprise. "But you may not thank us a few minutes from now."
Hendrick gave him a wary look and sized up the big man to see if he could take him if need be. He didn't like his conclusion. "Why?"
"You are going to have the privilege of meeting Lord Chang," replied Xu.
So that's where I saw him before, Hendrick thought with a sinking feeling.
A few minutes later, the two remaining pirates joined up with them and had an intense conversation with Xu. The small Chinese man shrugged and waved them to go in front of them. Hendrick thought that that was the leader's way of dismissing the fate of one of his men.
Forty-five minutes later after a short walk through the jungle and a truck ride down the one road on the island to the southern coast, Hendrick, Xu, and Lin were on a small boat headed out to Chang's yacht. The other two pirates were left to keep up the pressure on Malik and the sub crew. Chang's boat was about two miles off shore, halfway between Itbayat's southeastern coast and Diogo Island. The sounds of intermittent gunfire between Chang's men and Hendrick's friends were drowned out by the roar of the powerful outboard engine on their boat.
Hendrick continually searched for an escape route, but the big man kept his weapon trained on him and his eyes never left the American. The one person he did not want to meet was Chang. The pirate would undoubtedly kill him for shooting up his men and his boats almost a year ago in the Taiwan Strait. He started to eye his chances of jumping overboard, but Lin caught on and walked over to stand a foot from him with the barrel of his handgun two inches from his face.
Xu observed it all with amusement. "One can never tell about these things. Miracles have happened before. Perhaps my Lord Chang will think of you as a formidable enemy and respect you for it. He has pardoned men in the past." He gave Hendrick a small smile.
"Fat chance," said Hendrick.
The boat pulled up to the large yacht and positioned itself alongside a ladder that led up to the weather deck. He could see four men brandishing assault rifles waiting for them to come aboard.
Once aboard, Xu went to report to Chang, and Hendrick was brought to the top deck of the superstructure. He climbed the ladder under the watchful eye of a man with an automatic weapon on the top deck and a man with a similar weapon below. A twitch on his part and he would be shot.
The yacht's powerful engines awoke from idle and rumbled into gear, propelling the ship forward with significant acceleration. Hendrick had no doubt where they were going. Gold attracted more insects like Chang than dogshit in summer, he thought.
Hendrick saw a woman's feet as he climbed the ladder to where the deck was at eye level. His eyes immediately went up her body to her face, but she was standing with the sun at her back, and her features were lost in the sun's intense rays. She was wearing something loose and filmy, making her look exotic and incredibly sexy. His eyes returned to her ankles, and he noticed she was shackled with a chain leading over to the railing.
He climbed the rest of the way with his heart beating faster. He sensed her identity before his eyes could confirm it. Lin, the big Chinese, got in between them, and his bulk shielded her from him. Her voice came to him around the massive flesh of his guard. It was sad and surprised, simultaneously depressed and hopeful.
"Steve," she said softly.
Lin dragged Hendrick over to another section of railing and passed the chain linking a set of handcuffs underneath the brass rail then handcuffed Hendrick's hands together. Lin stepped back, but Hendrick paid him no notice. He gaped at the woman across the deck from him.
"Steve!" Maggie said again, this time with a tone bordering on annoyance and devastation. She had been counting on Hendrick to rescue her, and now he needed rescuing himself.
"Maggie? How -" said Hendrick, then was lost for words.
"It's a long story," she said.
Her face reflected desire for him and the sweet agony of having him near but knowing that he was doomed. He sensed her feelings, and his heart nearly burst with emotion for her. His mind rushed with the details of what would be her fate, and he jerked the handcuffs with all his strength. Lin walked quickly toward him with a massive hand raised to strike him, but Maggie stopped him with a word.
"Lin, no!" she screamed.
Lin stopped and looked at her with surprise. He looked back toward Hendrick, and a huge smile crept across his face. He tilted back his head and laughed heartily. Lin walked back and sat down in a convenient chair.
"Ha, ha, ha, you big maggot!" said Hendrick.
"Looks like our big secret is out," said Maggie.
"What's that?" asked Hendrick.
"He thinks we're lovers," said Maggie with a disgusted look at Lin who still had a smile on his face.
"I wish we were," said Hendrick then instantly regretted his presumptuous remark. He looked away trying not to see what he thought would be her rejection of him, but caught Maggie's sharp look of surprise. He immediately began to examine the railing. Was it my imagination, he thought, or did the railing give slightly when I yanked on it just now?
"Do you have something going there?" she asked in a low voice. She knew Lin and the guard with the assault rifle did not understand English.
"Maybe," replied Hendrick.
Maggie reached out for him, but they were at least ten feet apart. This set Lin to laughing once again.
"I can't even touch you," she said.
"Give it up," said Hendrick.
"What did they do to you? You have a lump the size of a Buick on the side of your face," asked Maggie.
"It was fat boy there," said Hendrick, indicating Lin. "Looks like everybody's after the gold."
"You did it then? You actually got some gold from the Awa Maru?" asked Maggie.
Hendrick nodded solemnly. "But it looks like I'm not going to live to enjoy it." He studied her again. "You look well. Are you all right?"
"They're pampering me beyond belief. They're going to sell me to some warlord in the Sulu Sea."
"How much?" asked Hendrick.
"How much? How the hell should I know how much?" she shot back. "Who the hell cares how much?"
"Maybe I want to be in on the bidding," replied Hendrick. He gave her a short smile.
Maggie's mouth popped open with surprise, an amazed smile crossing her face. Voices from below suddenly got louder, causing her to glance in their direction then look desperately at Hendrick.
"Listen, if you should get away, get to Taipei and call three, six, one, nine, zero, zero, five," she said in a rush. "You'll get an answering machine. Leave a message and say that there is no time left. Leave your phone number. They'll get in touch with you." She repeated the number. "Do you understand?"
Hendrick gaped at her, realizing that there was a lot more to Maggie than he ever knew. He repeated the phone number back to her and tried to commit it to memory.
Maggie looked at the top of the ladder, and she grew panic-stricken. "What languages do you know?" she asked quickly.
"Uh, Russian," he said even more puzzled than before.
"Russian? Oh, God. I only know how to count to ten in Russian," she said then abruptly stopped as a woman climbed onto the deck from the ladder followed by a tall man and two small men, one of whom was the man who had captured him in the jungle. The woman, who was dressed similarly to Maggie, immediately went over to her, checking her ankle for chafing. The tall man looked at Hendrick and smiled, then took up a position to introduce the two men with him.
"You must be Mr. Hendrick," said the tall man in near perfect English. "It is my great pleasure to introduce my Lord Chang, the Tiger of the Orient. And I am his most obedient servant, Mr. Yum."
This was the first time Hendrick had gotten a good look at Chang. He had expected the pirate leader to be tough and formidable looking, even though he knew he was short in stature. Chang was only about five feet tall, and Hendrick estimated his weight to be about one hundred ten pounds. He had a dark, weather-beaten face from the many years of being in the tropics and had the largest mouth he had ever seen. When his lips parted he could see stained, irregular, protruding teeth.
"Chang certainly is unique looking," said Hendrick. "Where did he get that big mouth? His head looks like a Pez dispenser."
Yum did a masterful job at stifling a laugh. Chang said something in Chinese to the tall man who nodded deferentially then launched into a long explanation. He looked at Hendrick. "My Lord Chang has asked what you have said. I told him that you said that it was a great honor to meet him and that his reputation was known far and wide, even in the United States."
"What a crock of shit," said Hendrick in disgust. "You'd better hope that the little bastard doesn't get wise to you, or he'll do double to you what he's going to do to me."
"Fortunately one can be skinned alive only once," he replied with a smile. Chang spoke again and Yum quickly gave the pirate leader all his attention.
"My Lord Chang has come up with an inventive new twist to your demise," said Yum after Chang stopped speaking. "He will have all of the major bones in your body broken, and he will even break a few of them himself! Then the standard stuff after that, you know, flogging until your whole body is a mass of shredded flesh, then throwing you to the sharks."
Hendrick glanced at Xu who was following the conversation with amusement. "So much for Chang respecting me for being a formidable enemy," he said to Chang's lieutenant. Xu's smile grew broader.
"Tell the little asshole Chang that I hope the sight of my entrails swinging in the breeze makes him barf his guts out, and that I hope someday a shark bites his nuts off," said Hendrick with a short bow in the direction of Chang.
Yum immediately translated, and Chang looked at Hendrick curiously, then nodded curtly but said nothing further.
"I obviously translated it with major modifications," said Yum in a low voice. Hendrick nodded.
"So how do you know English so well?" he asked Yum.
"I studied in the States as an exchange student, then rather than go back to China, I escaped but didn't get far," he said in a low voice. "My Lord Chang thought I could be useful."
"And useful you are," said Hendrick. "Listen, do me a favor, huh? Unchain the girl."
Yum looked at Maggie quickly, then glanced back at Hendrick. "Not a chance. She has the unfortunate tendency to fall overboard especially when you are in the vicinity," he replied referring to Maggie's escape during the last battle Hendrick had with Chang and his men.
"I want to look her over," said Hendrick.
"I'll bet you do," replied Yum.
"I want to bid on her," said Hendrick.
Yum looked at him with surprise, and the woman who was attending to Maggie gave Hendrick a startled look. Chang said something that sounded like a question, and Yum immediately translated Hendrick's remark to him. Chang's face broke into a wide smile and spoke again to Yum.
"Lord Chang asks what you would use for money," said Yum.
"I've got a few tons of gold on the beach," replied Hendrick.
"Ah, but you are in the process of losing it to us," said Yum and looked forward at the two craft that were rapidly approaching. The two boats formed up on Chang's yacht, and the three vessels sailed toward the landing where Golubev's submarine was tied to the rickety pier. Hendrick looked over the other two boats, and he saw with satisfaction that some of the bullet holes from their battle last year were still visible.
Hendrick peered into the distance and could hear gunfire still coming from the jungle directed at the submarine. The rattle of Golubev's AK47 floated to him over the water interspersed with the thumping of an individual handgun from either Joe Malik or Ian Howard on the sub. They were still holding out against Chang's forces. He glanced around and saw that for the moment all eyes were looking at the submarine, except for Maggie who was trying to get his attention. She desperately wanted to tell him something. Why had she asked what languages he knew? She glanced at Lin who was studying her intently then she gave up for the moment.
Hendrick slowly took up the slack in the chain between his handcuffs and put a strain on the railing. He felt it move again slightly and surreptitiously glanced at the screws holding it to the deck. They appeared to be in disturbingly good condition. The vertical post that supported the railing had a hollow horizontal tube on the top of the post through which the railing was passed. He looked for the splice in the railing and saw it only five feet away. He pulled sideways on the railing and saw the splice move just a bit. The screws that held the splice tube over the two ends of the railing were loose. He had a chance, not much of one, but it was something at least.
He looked back at Maggie and raised his eyebrows. She caught his meaning and gave the pirates around them a collective, anxious look. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and grimaced.
Chang pulled a walkie-talkie out of his back pocket and had a short conversation with someone on one of the other boats. Seconds later a booming sound rolled over the water from the boat to the left of Chang's yacht. A small cloud of smoke from the bow of the boat was quickly blown away by the wind. Five seconds later he saw an explosion among the trees on the island. It was ten yards beyond the clearing where the crates of gold were stacked.
The yacht pulled abeam of the boat, and Hendrick saw that they had a large mortar on the foredeck. They proceeded to drop mortar rounds all around the submarine.
Hendrick glanced around quickly and saw that everyone's attention was on the mortar barrage. Now is my chance, he thought then looked at Maggie. I might get away, but what about her? He hesitated then realized he couldn't leave without her.
"All right, Chang, let's work a deal," said Hendrick. All eyes turned toward him. "I'll give you the gold for the girl." He could see Maggie's hopeful look in his peripheral vision.
Yum screwed up his face as if to say, you've got to be kidding. He translated to Chang who gave a snort of dismissal and turned toward the submarine. Yum just looked at Hendrick and shook his head.
"You don't understand," said Hendrick. "They have explosives that run along the keel. They'll sink the sub, if they think you'll capture it. This is a crack Russian submarine crew we're talking about here. They're trained to die rather than be captured."
"The gold is on the beach, so who needs the sub?" asked Yum.
"The gold on the beach is only one small part of the gold we recovered," explained Hendrick. "Most of the gold is still on the sub. One hundred sixty-five boxes of gold. Over seven hundred million dollars worth."
Yum translated for Chang who said something abrupt and dismissed Hendrick again.
"So, what did he say?" asked Hendrick.
Yum smiled. "It literally translates to something like you being steeped in yak dung."
Hendrick thought furiously. He was making it all up as he went along, and he had to come up with something to keep them talking.
"I can prove it," said Hendrick quickly. How am I going to prove it? he asked himself desperately.
Yum turned to him and wrinkled his forehead. "How?"
"Let me talk to one of the guys on the sub, and I'll show you," replied Hendrick.
Yum hesitated, then told Chang who mulled it over. Chang gestured to one of the men near him, and the man ran over to the ladder to go below. He came back moments later with a bullhorn. Yum took it and held it up to Hendrick.
"Choose your words with care," threatened Yum.
"What will you do to me? Kill me?" asked Hendrick carelessly.
"We will make your girlfriend watch your prolonged death," said Yum and jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward Maggie.
Hendrick saw Maggie's eyes grow wide at the thought of witnessing his torture and death. I'd better be careful, he thought, or else Maggie may pay for it.
Yum handed over the bullhorn, and Hendrick put it up to his mouth.
"Joe, this is Steve Hendrick," he said wincing at the volume from the bullhorn's speaker. "Joe, I'm here with the Tiger of the Orient, your friend and mine, Lord Chang." He studied the pile of gold and saw no one near it. Where was Joe Malik?
After a few seconds he heard Joe's voice, faint due to the distance. Hendrick thought it was coming from behind the sub's superstructure.
"What the hell are you doing with them?" Malik asked.
"It's a long story. I'm here with Maggie also," said Hendrick. "I'm trying to arrange a trade, the gold for Maggie and me. But they think they can just walk in and take it." Hendrick glanced around at the pirates who were looking at him expectantly.
"Joe, show them the detonator," said Hendrick. He held his breath. Would Joe pick up on the scam? There was silence for a few long moments. "Joe, show them the detonator for the explosives to scuttle the sub if we're attacked." He started to sweat.
An arm suddenly appeared from behind the sub's sail and extended out fully. In the hand was a small device the size of a cellular telephone with a short tubular antenna protruding from the top. Yum immediately picked up a pair of binoculars and stared through them at the device in Malik's hand.
Yum lowered the glasses and turned to Hendrick with suspicion on his face. "It looks like a GPS receiver."
Man, talk about modern day pirates, Hendrick thought. They even know about GPS receivers. "Of course it looks like a GPS receiver. Do you think we want to let the crew know about the explosives?" He held his breath as Yum translated for Chang. The pirate leader grew thoughtful. At least I've got this skinny bastard thinking, thought Hendrick.
"I'll tell the sub crew to back away and let you get the gold if you release me and the girl," said Hendrick, nodding in Maggie's direction.
Yum screwed up his face then told Chang.
"Think about it! Over thirteen tons of gold! Seven hundred million U.S. dollars! Just for two lives," pleaded Hendrick. "How much would you get for the girl? A million? Two million?"
Hendrick looked at Maggie out of the corner of his eye. She waited anxiously for Chang's answer but managed to look miffed at what she thought was a low price.
Chang asked a question. Yum translated for him. "How do we know the crew will do what you say?"
"There's only one way to find out," replied Hendrick. That's a good question, he thought. The Russians won't want to let the gold go. How do I get them to let Chang have it? "How do I know you'll really let us go?"
Yum shrugged and spoke with Chang a bit more. Chang thought for a moment then nodded.
"You have a deal," said Yum.
Hendrick smiled and glanced at Maggie whose mouth was hanging open with shock and relief. Hendrick turned back to Yum.
"He'll really let us go?" asked Hendrick.
"Lord Chang has given his word!" shouted Yum who was outraged that anyone would question the integrity of Chang.
Hendrick took a deep breath and raised the bullhorn to his lips once again. He knew he would have to do the sales job of his life.
CHAPTER 19
Treasure Lost
Joe Malik couldn't believe what he was hearing. Hendrick wanted to give the gold - all of it! - to Chang. True, he and Maggie were in a tight spot, but this seemed a bit extreme. Malik painfully climbed a ladder on the far side of the sub's sail to get to the bridge where Golubev was stationed.
Malik climbed up to the horseshoe shaped dugout in the top of the submarine's superstructure, enduring shooting pain up his leg from the bullet that was still in his calf. He limped past a half dozen sailors armed with mostly handguns to where Golubev was crouched behind the periscope mast.
"I think your friend is nuts," said Golubev. "The crew will kill me if I turn over all that gold to these criminals."
"Yeah, but how are we going to get past the pirates?" asked Malik.
"We will just pull out and submerge as quickly as we can," replied Golubev. "Bullets will not pierce the hull."
"How about their mortar? Won't that be able to punch a hole in the hull?" asked Malik. "They dropped mortar rounds all around us to make a point."
"Not big enough," replied Golubev. Malik stared at him, wondering if the old Russian believed that or not. It was impossible to tell. He half stood to talk to Hendrick.
"Steve, Golubev says he's just going to submerge and run for it," shouted Malik.
"I was afraid of that," mumbled Hendrick to himself. Xu walked quickly over to Hendrick and snatched the megaphone from his grasp.
"We have depth charges," said Xu to Malik and Golubev, his amplified voice echoing from the sub's hull. "The submarine will not get far before we sink it." His tone took on a new belligerence. "The choice is clear: fight and die, and we will get the gold after you are all dead, or back off as Hendrick suggests and let us take the gold, and you will be alive to tell about how you were almost rich."
Malik turned to Golubev. "What now? They'll eventually overwhelm us and kill us all. They have much better weapons than we have, and we're probably outnumbered ten to one. Is the gold worth your life and the lives of everyone else aboard?"
"They will gun us down when we get out in the open," protested Golubev.
"I'll take care of that. Anything else?" demanded Malik.
"We will come away from this with nothing," complained Golubev. "One cannot wave enormous riches in front of the crew, then suddenly take it away. They will be furious."
Malik shook his head in frustration. "Steve, Golubev wants something out of this. He's afraid of the crew. How about leaving us something for our trouble?"
Hendrick glanced at Xu and Yum who both shook their heads vehemently. They were dealing from a position of strength, and they knew it. Hendrick held out his manacled hands for Xu to give him the bullhorn.
Xu gave the device back to Hendrick with a hissed warning. "Convince them in the next minute, or no deal."
Hendrick held up the megaphone. "Joe, they want all the gold. You have to get them to agree to this. Use anything you can think of to divert them from fighting it out." He prayed Malik would remember the morning's conversation.
The word divert hit Malik like a cannon shell. He and Hendrick had talked about a diversion so that they could get the bank notes out of the decompression chamber that was attached to the exterior hull of the sub. Hendrick was clearly giving Malik the green light to tell Golubev about the bank notes. With any luck the pirates would not notice or inspect the chamber. Even if the pirates did find the bank notes, Golubev and his crew would be out of the way by then and could do nothing to stop them.
Malik told Golubev about the bank notes in the chamber to the old Russian's surprise. Golubev went through disbelief, then indignation at their duplicity, then grudging acceptance.
"How much is in there?" asked Golubev.
"We didn't stop to count it," said Malik. "But it's gotta be millions."
Golubev picked up a phone and gave the Russian equivalent of all hands on deck while Malik held up the GPS receiver once again.
"Remember, if you open fire, we'll blow the bottom out of the sub, and you'll have to negotiate with the fish for the gold!" he shouted.
Hendrick glanced at Xu and Yum who nodded casually.
"Okay, Joe, they agree. See you in a little while," said Hendrick. He watched solemnly as the sub crew, after some excited explanations from Golubev, slowly filed out of the submarine.
Hendrick held his breath, wondering if the pirates would open fire on the crew anyway, but the Russians, divers, Howard, and Malik ran down the pier and disappeared unhurt into the jungle.
Xu picked up the megaphone from Hendrick and raised it in front of him. "To make sure you will not detonate your explosives, you will now throw the detonator out into the open where we can see it."
Ten seconds later the GPS receiver flew out from the dense foliage and fell to the ground ten yards in front of the pile of gold that Hendrick, Malik and the rest of the divers had stacked there earlier in the day. Chang said something into his walkie-talkie, then they all looked at the large boat to the right of the yacht. The boat inched forward and tied up next to the submarine on its outboard side. Minutes later several planks were thrown down to span the gap between the pirate boat's deck and the deck of the submarine. Chang's men began to move across in a continuous line.
Hendrick watched them for a while amazed at the number of people that were on the boat. Xu shouted orders to them and supervisors among them quickly had them organized into groups, one of which went below to gather the gold and get it to the deck below the forward hatch. Another group worked the chain hoist that was still over the hatch, and still another lined up along the deck to carry the gold back to their boat. Within minutes they had a steady stream of boxes being transported into the pirate ship.
Hendrick shook his head at the sight and felt sick to his stomach at the thought of all that gold going into the hands of his enemy. He and the rest of them worked and fought to recover the gold, then Chang took it away at the last moment. He eyed the decompression chamber on the deck aft of the sail. The pirates were walking around it without looking at it closely. His improvised plan was working. The pirates would take the gold and leave the bank notes in the chamber.
His eyes wandered over to Maggie who was staring at him with a worried look on her face. She brightened up when she caught his eye. Her eyes darted over to Chang, then she questioned Hendrick with her eyes. He knew what she was trying to ask: are they really going to let us go? He shook his head slowly. She gave him a depressed look and jerked the chain that kept her tied to the railing. Her face showed a sudden thought.
"Could I see?" she asked innocently. Yum turned to look at her. "I've never seen that much gold before." Yum said something to Chang who nodded. Miraculously Yum ordered Lin to remove the shackle from her ankle. Lin complied then stood next to her to keep her from getting next to Hendrick.
Hendrick's mind raced. One obstacle down and one to go. She was free, and he had a plan to escape. Pull the railing apart, grab Maggie and jump overboard. Only she had to get a lot closer.
The boxes of gold flowed endlessly from the submarine. Once in a while a box would fall apart, spilling the gold ingots onto the deck along with the mud that had seeped through the cracks in the case. The pirates got excited seeing the shining yellow metal among the brown streaks of sea bottom. Chang, Xu, Yum, and the rest on the yacht became ecstatic as Xu counted the number of cases of gold out loud. They began to laugh and slap each other on the shoulders, including Chang whose smile seemed so wide as to have the corners of his mouth meet somewhere at the back of his head.
They would laugh like hell if the top of Chang's head fell off, thought Hendrick. "Yeah, it's nice to be rich, isn't it? You're welcome. Too bad you have to give all that gold to Konaka."
At the mention of Konaka's name Yum, Xu, and Chang looked up at him. Yum translated for Chang, and three of them began laughing.
"Konaka who?" asked Yum facetiously. Xu laughed harder.
"So, you're going to cut Konaka out of the deal," said Hendrick. "I'd love to stick around to watch the terrorist-pirate war, but I'll be going now."
Yum's laughter abated leaving him smiling. "We will not release you, Hendrick. You will die as I have described and as my Lord Chang has ordered."
"Tiger of the Orient, huh? More like Shithead of the Orient," said Hendrick who wasn't surprised at the duplicity of the pirates.
"I thought Lord Chang had given his word," protested Maggie.
"You don't understand," said Yum pleasantly. "My Lord Chang's word isn't worth a shit."
Maggie looked at Hendrick who was shaking his head in disgust. "Well, at least you saved the sub crew's lives."
Hendrick nodded and pressed his lips together. One of the crewmembers from the other boat came aboard and brought one of the gold ingots up to Chang and his men. They all crowded around the yellow bar and touched it, emitting sounds of awe and delight. Hendrick again shook his head in disgust. He glanced at Maggie and saw a devious look come over her.
"You said you know Russian?" asked Maggie.
Hendrick looked at her intently. "Yes," he replied.
"I know how to count to ten in Russian," she said. Maggie was nervous, and Hendrick wondered why she was telling him this now.
"I'd love to hear you count to ten in Russian," said Hendrick slowly, not knowing what to expect. He eyed the pirates whose attention was totally taken up by the gold flow and the ingot handled by Chang.
"Desyat, pyat, nool, odin, odin, devyat, dva, tri," she said in a wavering voice.
Hendrick stared at her. She hadn't counted to ten, but had started out with ten then jumped to five and rattled off some other numbers seemingly at random. What on earth was she trying to tell him? And why was she so nervous about it?
"That's, uh, nice," said Hendrick with a puzzled look on his face. She repeated it, and he compared the numbers with the telephone number she had given him before. They weren't even close. He shook his head to tell her he didn't get it.
Maggie turned and boldly walked in Hendrick's direction. An arm as large as a tree trunk reached out and grabbed her, stopping her dead in her tracks.
"Ow! You big jerk!" she shouted at Lin. "Leggo of me! All I want to do is look out the other side."
Xu glanced over his shoulder in the middle of sharing a big laugh with Chang. He mumbled something to Lin who immediately released Maggie's arm. She resumed her walk toward him.
She's making her move, he thought excitedly. I've got to get ready. He leaned over the railing as if in sadness, allowing his arms to straddle the railing. The chain between the handcuffs hung down almost to the deck. Hendrick took a deep breath. When she was five feet away, he suddenly brought up his arms in an explosive motion, simultaneously pushing up with his feet. The chain between the two handcuffs slammed into the railing, ripping out the screws that held the stanchion to the deck. Maggie cringed then started to run toward him.
Hendrick pulled the railing to one side to rip the railing splice loose. The tubular sleeve over the railing bent and one screw came out, but the rest held fast. Hendrick yanked on it with all his strength, bending the railing he had in his hands, but the splice refused to come free. Lin reached out for Maggie as she piled headlong into Hendrick's back shoving him forward to the edge of the deck.
Hendrick squirmed around to grab Maggie so that both of them could get overboard, but Maggie's shove made him lose his balance. He tumbled over the edge, taking the mangled railing with him. He rotated around until his body fell down past the railing, yanking his arms and the chain between his handcuffs taut. The railing held him up momentarily until his momentum jerked the splice violently apart, sending the remaining screws flying in all directions. The railing bent toward him, and the chain between his handcuffs skidded along the railing's length as he fell. The chain reached the end of the metal rod, and he tumbled clear.
Hendrick twisted as he fell and got to glance back at Maggie's face, which hung over the edge of the deck. A huge arm circled her neck and dragged her back from the brink. He hit the water at an awkward angle, the impact sending a shudder along his body. With his wrists still chained together Hendrick found he could only do a silly looking version of a doggie paddle, but he worked his arms back and forth with all his strength to put some distance between him and the yacht.
His first instinct was to swim for the submarine, but his second and better thought was to do the unexpected. The water around him wasn't very clear - the visibility was only about ten feet - and he could use it to his advantage. He swam desperately, his emotions in check until he had time later to lament that Maggie hadn't made it over the side with him. He swam for the surface, his lungs bursting with the urge to inhale. He exhaled before he hit the air, then when he broke the surface he inhaled quickly and drove himself under once again. He heard some shouting in the direction of the yacht but hadn't stayed up long enough to get a good idea of what the pirates were doing.
Hendrick swam literally for his life, adrenaline filling his system and driving him onward with renewed strength. He headed southwest, parallel to the coast. His plan was to swim to the southern landing spot on the island and wade ashore there. He'd find Malik, Howard, Golubev and the others and try to figure out some sort of rescue plan for Maggie. He swam until his lungs ached terribly then slowly went to the surface again. He broke the surface quietly this time and tried to keep his head down as much as possible by leaning backwards and allowing only his mouth nose, and eyes to reach the air. He breathed deeply, taking in the sweet sea air and letting his body rest for a moment.
Gunfire erupted in the distance, and Hendrick risked a look at the yacht. To his relief, he was at least a hundred yards away from the vessel. Several of Chang's men were leaning over the side and firing into the water at real or imagined targets. Two men were scouring the sea with binoculars, but they weren't looking in his direction. Hendrick looked at the upper deck and saw the back of Maggie's head. She turned seemingly at his unspoken wish and anxiously searched the water.
Emotion surged in him, and he vowed to get her back from Chang. He slid under the water and pushed himself toward shore. Over an hour later, he dragged himself up on the small beach that was a few hundred yards up the coast from the landing point at the southern tip of the island. He collapsed then rolled over onto his back, his chest heaving to get air into his lungs and his muscles twitching in protest from his arduous swim. After a few minutes of rest, he staggered to his feet and started the trek back to his friends.
He was on the southwest side of Mount Riposet, and he knew he would find the one dirt road that ran from the southern landing spot up through the middle of the island. Hendrick wandered his way through the foliage, the vision of Maggie chained to the railing in his mind. She had pushed him overboard to save him, knowing that Lin was right behind her and would prevent her from following him.
The road came upon him suddenly, and he looked around cautiously before he stepped out into the middle of the twin ruts in the ground. Hendrick walked up the road as fast as his fatigued body could move, all the while alert for signs of anyone approaching.
Minutes later, he wandered into a small clearing and saw a welcome sight. Golubev's submarine was still tied up to the pier, and he could see his men around and on top of the vessel. There wasn't a pirate in sight.
Depression suddenly filled him. Chang had left, taking Maggie with him. Where were they headed? They probably had a base they used for a headquarters, but where? The Philippines had an enormous number of islands. The pirates would never be found. That's how they survived.
Hendrick sat heavily on a fallen tree and anguish grew in him. The thought of Maggie in the hands of Chang made his insides quiver. She was a slave, a sex slave until he got her back. Maybe I'm being a macho idiot, he thought, but I feel that I should rescue her. Men should protect women. His thoughts stopped as a new realization surfaced in his mind.
Or is it something more than that? Love? He smiled at the thought in spite of his anguish.
Hendrick got to his feet and walked down to the submarine.
CHAPTER 20
Departure
Hendrick looked at the now empty spot where they had stacked the cases of gold in the early morning. Splinters of wood were all over, but the pirates had scooped up the pieces of gold that their gunfire had ripped off the ingots.
"Hendrick!" shouted a voice in the direction of the submarine. He looked up and saw Ian Howard waving at him. He was aft of the sub's superstructure near the decompression chamber. A number of sailors were working on opening the hatch to the chamber.
Hendrick ran across the gangway onto the deck of the sub and met Howard halfway to the chamber. Howard gave him a hearty handshake.
"Bloody good to see that you're still alive!" said the big Englishman.
"Where's Malik? Is he okay?" asked Hendrick.
"He'll be fine," replied Howard. "He's below decks getting that wound taken care of." He eyed Hendrick closely. "That took a lot of guts to trade the gold for all of our lives. And that nonsense about the detonator was absolutely superb. The damnable pirates were fooled all the way."
Hendrick nodded modestly. "They have the last laugh. They have all the gold." And Maggie, he thought in desperation. He looked down at the deck at a large spot of dark red.
"That's where one of Golubev's men got it," said Howard in a somber tone. "It happened right in front of me, and I couldn't do anything about it."
Hendrick nodded sympathetically. Howard rummaged around in a toolbox on the deck and produced two long sharp tools. He expertly picked the handcuff locks in a few quick minutes.
"Where did you learn that little trick?" asked Hendrick as he rubbed his wrists.
"The benefits of a misspent youth," replied Howard with a conspiratorial smile.
Hendrick nodded a thank you. "I have to talk to Golubev." He walked past Howard to the group near the chamber. The sailors got the hatch open and let the water trapped in the chamber rush out to splash on the sub's deck. The water flow slowed, then dropped to a trickle. Two sailors reached in and began to wrestle a bale of bank notes from the interior of the chamber.
Golubev spotted Hendrick approaching and gave him a big welcome, hugging and slapping him on the back. He seemed genuinely glad to see the American again.
"I am glad that you are with us once again, tovarisch," said the gruff old Russian.
Hendrick nodded and tried to smile. "I have to talk to you about something."
"In a few minutes," replied Golubev. "We are about to see what treasure we have left." He gave Hendrick a stern look. "You should have told us about the bank notes."
"Slipped my mind," replied Hendrick. "You would have found out eventually. How would we have gotten the notes away from here without you finding out?" We never did figure out a way to do that, he thought.
Golubev thought for a moment, and his stern expression faded. He nodded and smiled at Hendrick. "That is true."
Hendrick moved to stand directly in front of Golubev. "We have to go after the pirates."
Golubev eyed him curiously. "You were the one who wanted us to give up the gold to save our lives. Now you want to put us in danger again."
"Yes," said Hendrick.
"And what weapons do we have to fight these pirates?" asked Golubev.
"What about the torpedoes? Are they fixed yet?" asked Hendrick.
Golubev gestured toward the open sea, ignoring Hendrick's question. "And where are these pirates? Do you see them?"
Hendrick eyed the empty sea and shook his head in frustration. "We can't just let them take our gold and not do anything about it." We also have to rescue Maggie, he thought desperately. But he knew Golubev had a point. With no real weapons and not knowing where to look, a rescue mission was impossible. Hendrick ground his teeth at the thought of Maggie being held by Chang.
Two sailors ripped open the wooden crate holding the bank notes, the rotten wood splintering and disintegrating under their attack. The bale was wrapped in rubberized cloth, which decades ago substituted for plastic tarps. One sailor produced a knife and in a few minutes had hacked open the top of the bale and reached in to pull out a stack of paper. He handed part of the stack over to Golubev who showed it to Hendrick.
Hendrick picked up one of the notes and read the print nestled among the incredibly elaborate scrollwork that bank documents were known for in the 1930s and 1940s.
"One thousand dollars," mumbled Hendrick as he read the amount on the top of the notes. "Payable to the bearer on demand." The amount didn't register in Hendrick's mind.
Golubev's jaw dropped open as he realized how much money was represented by the bales of bank notes. There were thousands of notes in one bale, and they had recovered three bales.
The amount of money on the note in Hendrick's hand shot through the crew like lightning, leading to the frenzied emptying of the bales and the retrieval of the other two bales.
Hendrick shoved the bank note into his pocket and watched the gleeful sailors begin to count the notes. He thought he should be happy for them, but he saw no joy in the situation. He couldn't get Maggie out of his mind.
The rubberized cloth had been only partially effective. The seawater had been kept from only the innermost notes with the outer notes disintegrating in the water. Most of the notes were wet, and the sailors laid the individual bundles of notes out to dry. After fifteen minutes of excited Russian expressions filling the air, Golubev approached Hendrick.
"Same deal. You get thirty-five percent," said Golubev with a wary look at the American.
Why not? Hendrick thought. Then we'll all get away from this with a little something. Hendrick nodded.
"How much?" asked Hendrick nodding at the pile of bank notes.
Golubev asked a question of one of his men, received a quick answer, then turned and spoke in English.
"About ten million American dollars," replied Golubev with a huge smile. "And your cut is three and a half million."
"His cut is zero," said a voice behind Hendrick.
Golubev looked over Hendrick's shoulder, and Hendrick turned to confront the intruder. Loshak and Drukarev walked up to the group with sneering, arrogant looks on their faces.
"The Americans get nothing," said Loshak.
"If it isn't our fascist friends," said Hendrick with disgust.
"I am in command here, Loshak. Not you," retorted Golubev. "And where were the two of you when the fighting was going on?" He darted looks at both of them. "Hiding below! Isn't that right?"
Hendrick had been slowly inching toward them in anticipation of a fight. Both men reached for their weapons just as Hendrick leaped at Loshak. The SVR agent got his pistol out before Hendrick had a chance to grab him. The Russian swung at the American's face, the barrel bouncing off Hendrick's left temple further aggravating the injury he had received from Lin earlier in the day. Hendrick sank to his knees and held his throbbing head.
"Another incident like that, and you will die right here," threatened Loshak as he waved his gun barrel in Hendrick's face. He turned to Golubev who stood growling at the two agents. "Captain Golubev, you will put the Americans and their diving team ashore, then have these bank notes stored below. They will go into the Russian Federation's treasury."
"Chekist!" erupted Golubev through clenched teeth, referring to the notorious Cheka, the ancestor of the KGB and the SVR during Lenin's time. "This money is ours! You will not get away with this. Fascisti!" He spat at Loshak's feet.
Loshak walked up to Golubev and shoved the gun into his face while Drukarev held everyone else at bay. "Listen to me, Golubev. You can be replaced!" The threat was clear to everyone - they could, if pressed, go back to Russia without Golubev whose body would no doubt fertilize the voracious jungle only yards away.
"Wait until we get back to Russia, my Chekist friends," snapped Golubev. "And you are without your weapons."
"Get moving, Golubev. We sail in ten minutes," ordered Loshak. He turned to Drukarev. "We have a message to send," he said in a low voice. Drukarev nodded.
Golubev started to move, then stopped and helped Hendrick to his feet. "I am sorry, tovarisch," he said with real regret in his voice.
"Not your fault, Viktor Ivanovich," said Hendrick. He locked eyes with the old Russian. "We will have our day."
Golubev nodded. "I hope you are right." He made sure that Hendrick was steady on his feet then moved along the deck and disappeared below after issuing the orders to comply with Loshak's commands.
Drukarev forced Hendrick and Ian Howard off the ship, both of them protesting that they needed to offload their personal belongings. Drukarev wouldn't budge, however, and shoved them along the plank leading to the pier with the point of his gun.
One by one the diving team exited the submarine, the last two divers helping Joe Malik negotiate the more difficult steps. Hendrick gave his friend a look of relief then filled him in, telling him the bank notes totaled ten million dollars.
"So they've got everything then," said Malik in a dead tired tone of voice. "Charts, equipment, and our ten million." He just faced the submarine and stared.
"We're lucky to get away with our lives," said Howard. "That Loshak bloke was about to kill our friend Hendrick here."
"Glad to see that you've cheated death one more time," said Malik, but Hendrick was staring intently past the submarine down the shoreline. Malik shuffled over to look along Hendrick's line of view and saw a ship in the distance. Malik looked at Hendrick again with a question on his face.
"One of Chang's boats," said Hendrick. "Too bad he's not onboard that one. It must have engine trouble for Chang to leave it behind."
"You can bet it doesn't have any of the gold on board either," said Malik.
They all watched the Russian sailors prepare to get underway. The Kurchatov's diesels rumbled into life, sending up a small cloud of black smoke, which cleared quickly in the stiff breeze. The deck sailors cleared the lines from the pier and threw aside the planks they had used to travel to and from the pier. One of the sailors waved. Hendrick and the others sat and stared, then slowly waved back. Golubev appeared at the top of the superstructure, and Hendrick could see him lean over the side, checking on the deck sailors' progress. Behind him, out of earshot of Golubev, they could see Loshak set up an attaché case satellite modem. He picked up the handset and began speaking into it. Probably talking to his superiors in Russian intelligence, thought Hendrick.
Hendrick cupped his hands around his mouth. "Viktor Ivanovich!"
Golubev's head rotated around to look at Hendrick who pointed at the ship in the distance.
"You wanted to know where the pirates were," yelled Hendrick over the noise of the idling diesels.
Golubev looked at the ship then nodded. "I have just received word that one of the torpedoes has been repaired. They killed one of my men. They will not escape us!" Golubev saluted Hendrick and the others. Hendrick raised his right hand and touched the tips of his fingers to his temple then drew his hand away quickly.
Golubev turned away and issued orders into his intercom. The sub's engines increased in speed, emitting a low frequency growl, and the sub slowly backed out into the channel. The channel's swift current began to take the submarine to the southwest even before Golubev had the chance to reverse engines and put any forward speed on the vessel. The Russian sub proceeded down the channel between Itbayat and Diogo Islands and headed straight for the ship that was headed southwest. The two vessels seemed frozen in place for a long time as Hendrick followed their progress.
Suddenly he saw a plume of water and smoke erupt from the side of the pirate ship. The sound from the explosion came to him seconds later as a rolling thump of noise. Hendrick and the others watched fascinated as smoke obscured the stricken vessel for a long while. The smoke finally faded, and the sea was clear of everything including Golubev's submarine. He had submerged and was gone.
"That Golubev chap wasn't a bad sort," said Howard under his breath. Hendrick glanced at him and nodded. He sat down next to Joe Malik. After five minutes of silence, they looked up at one of the other divers. He had just sighted another ship on the horizon headed straight for the island. Hendrick shaded his eyes and stared at the vessel. They were coming to take them and the treasure home. Only there was no treasure.
Maggie Ramsey ran through his mind once again, and Hendrick lingered with thoughts of her. What had she been trying to tell him when they were on Chang's yacht? What was that business with the Russian numbers? Prior to that, she had been explicit about making a phone call. For what reason? She had made it seem like a checkin to let someone know that she was in trouble.
Hendrick gazed at the rapidly advancing ship and wondered if they would mind dropping him off in Taipei.
CHAPTER 21
Merchandise
TAIPEI, TAIWAN
Hendrick dialed the number from memory and tried to settle himself down as the telephone system hesitated then began to ring the other number. He was suffering the effects from the past month of excitement, anxiety, danger, loss of sleep, and outright fear that was caused by his adventure with the Awa Maru. Recovering one hundred seventy five million dollars of gold and bank notes, then losing it to a combination of pirates and Russian spies wasn't conducive to calming the nerves. Above all, he had lost Maggie.
The phone stopped ringing and a familiar noisy background came on that told him he had connected to an answering machine. The man spoke a monosyllable or two in Chinese, then seconds later he heard a beep.
"This message is from Maggie Ramsey," said Hendrick. "There is no time left." He hesitated then rattled off his phone number into the answering machine. He hung up, feeling a weight had been lifted from him. They - whoever they are - will know what to do. They will help Maggie somehow. He had to believe that; he had to cling to something.
Hendrick ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath to settle down. He eyed the bottle of sour mash whiskey he had ordered a few hours ago and decided one drink would do no harm. He walked over and opened the bottle, put some ice in a glass, and splashed some of the whiskey over the ice. He drank, taking a large gulp and letting the liquor warm his insides.
He thought of the diamonds hidden near the island of Niushan Dao. He still had to mount a recovery attempt for the diamonds located in People's Republic of China's territorial waters, a nerve-wracking operation to say the least. How much was there? Should he recover them and use the money to rescue Maggie? He immediately rejected the idea as taking too much time. First he had to know where to look for her before he could rescue her.
Hendrick flopped down on the bed, taking care not to spill his drink and glanced at his watch. Almost three in the afternoon, he mused. Joe Malik was probably being operated on by now. He had gone to a hospital in Taipei to get his leg looked at. The wound wasn't serious; it was probably the result of a ricochet, but Malik kept saying that he didn't want to limp for the rest of his life, so he got up some courage and took what he considered to be a chance on foreign doctors. Hendrick figured he'd be in the hospital for a couple of days at least.
A crumpled paper with numbers on it caught his eye. He had thrown it in frustration moments before using the phone. He picked it up and smoothed it out, reading the numbers ten, five, zero, one, one, nine, two, three, the ones told to him by Maggie in Russian. Hendrick opened the drawer in the nightstand and pulled out hotel stationery and a pen. He began to group the numbers together forming subgroups similar to a phone number with the three digit exchange then the four digit remainder.
Maggie had said ten for the first two digits, not one, then zero, but ten. He wrote that down. Then what? All the rest of the numbers were individual digits. He tried grouping them in twos and studied the result. He had four groups of two digits with one digit left over. The first two groups seemed familiar, ten, fifty-two. The other groups were eleven, ninety-two, and three, on which he drew a complete blank. He threw the paper aside in frustration.
Hendrick poured more whiskey and dropped a few more ice cubes into his glass as his mind muddled over trying to decipher the meaning of the numbers. He couldn't shake the feeling that if he didn't discover what the numbers represented, he might never see Maggie again. He sat back down on the bed, took another sip of his drink, leaned back and closed his eyes.
Ten fifty-two. Ten fifty-two. The numbers went round and round in his mind. A mental picture of the chart of Itbayat Island came to mind. What were the coordinates of Itbayat? He struggled for a bit then relaxed as they came clear in his memory. Seventeen something or other North Latitude, he thought, and one twenty degrees and something East Longitude.
His eyes flew open before he completely formed the thought. Ten degrees, fifty-two minutes! He leaped across the bed and grabbed the paper once again. One hundred nineteen degrees, twenty-three minutes!
Seconds later, Hendrick was on the phone dialing his Taiwanese friend, Loh Yi-Song who had captained the salvage vessel during their first attempt to recover treasure from the Awa Maru.
Hendrick shifted his weight impatiently from one foot to the other and back again as Loh Yi-Song searched through his extensive set of nautical charts. Loh straightened and lifted a corner of the chart he had pulled out from a large stack to read the title.
"Maybe this one," he muttered as he walked over to a table and unrolled the chart flat on the surface. Hendrick eagerly crowded next to him to view the map. He blinked at the cryptic Chinese characters that were spread over the chart.
"Southwestern Philippines," said Loh as he pointed to large characters at the top center of the chart.
"Sulu Sea?" asked Hendrick as he pointed to an area south of a large island that ran southwest to northeast.
"Yes," replied Loh and nodded. He pointed to the long, thin looking island. "Palawan Island." Hendrick handed Loh the piece of paper with what he hoped were map coordinates written on it. Loh ran his finger along the edges of the chart to find the desired coordinates and slid his finger over to a place on the northeast coast of Palawan Island.
"Malampaya Inner Sound," said Loh and looked at Hendrick questioningly. "You want to tell me what this is all about?"
"It would make sense," mumbled Hendrick to himself. He looked up at Loh. "You know those pirates who shot up your salvage vessel last year and killed one of your guys?" Loh nodded slowly. Hendrick stabbed a finger toward the chart. "That's their headquarters."
Loh looked at him with skepticism. "How do you know?"
Hendrick related his misadventure with Chang's men, and how Maggie told him the map coordinates.
"The People's Republic has a reward out for anyone who can lead them to Chang's base," said Loh. "They've been after him for a long time."
"You have contacts in the PRC, don't you?" asked Hendrick as an idea blossomed in his mind.
Loh nodded. "What do you have in mind? Going after these guys?"
"Tell your contacts that Chang has seven hundred million dollars in gold from the Awa Maru," said Hendrick. "I want half to lead them there."
Maggie Ramsey cringed before the ring of jeering men. She was up on a platform, chained to a post behind her. The mini theater was where Chang conducted his slave trade. She caught snippets of the bidding, which was conducted mostly in Mandarin, but she knew that it thankfully would not last much longer. Dressed in a diaphanous garment designed to showcase her physical attributes yet hide them at the same time, she was extremely embarrassed to stand before the leering crowd.
A rotund man with dark skin seemed to be getting the upper hand in the bidding war, and his smile increased as the others dropped out one by one. Soon there were only two and Chang's attention ping-ponged back and forth between the pair as they each tried to outdo the other.
Maggie looked at each of them and nearly gagged at the thought of being "married" to either of them. She prayed that she was at least sterile and unable to conceive any sort of vile offspring that might result from the horror of having sex with either of them. The fat man had put some leeches on his arms for God-only-knows-what reason, and the other man, who was much thinner, had some sort of skin disease, which had turned his skin into the appearance of a washboard. Each had teeth with coloring varying from brown to dark red to black, and both had the tendency to actually drool at times especially when staring at Maggie. Their saliva was the same color as their teeth. The reddish-brown drool was from the betel-palm nut, which the inhabitants of the Sulu Sea sprinkle with lime and wrap in leaves. When eaten, the concoction acted as a mild stimulant.
Maggie tilted her head upward to the tropical sky and prayed as she had never prayed before. She promised God anything and everything, including becoming a nun, if only He would relieve her of this trial. She turned her head to the sun and let it broil her face for a moment. Maybe if I have blisters on my face they won't want me, she thought in a panic.
A shadow passed over her face, and she opened her eyes, expecting to see a bird in the midst of the glaring sun. A faint buzzing sound came to her between the laughter and shouts of the men. She stared at the form in the sky, then looked around at Chang and his men. No one else had seen the small toy-like aircraft. What was it? she asked herself. A remotely piloted vehicle with a camera on board? But who would be using such a craft?
The bidding war had ended with some kind of rift between Chang and the fat man. Maggie strained her ears and concluded that the fat man wasn't paying what Chang wanted for her. Good, sell me to somebody else, she thought. Like Hendrick. She grimaced at the thought of him. I thought he was going to come back for me, but he didn't. That talk about wanting to be lovers was just a lot of bullshit, she concluded. Wait until I get my hands on him. I'll make him pay for this. I'll sell him to some warlord's fat, disgusting daughter who will hopefully give him some rare, exotic, incurable disease that will make all his body parts fall off one by one, starting with his genitals.
The men had quieted down as they witnessed Chang's growing discontent with the fat man's bid. The fat man started to point out Maggie's weaknesses to Chang's displeasure. Chang jumped to his feet, glared at the fat man, then turned and ran up the platform to stand in front of Maggie.
Uh, oh, she thought. I don't like the look of this. She braced herself.
Chang reached up and grabbed the front of Maggie's dress under her neck and turned to look at the fat man. After waiting a few seconds to increase the suspense, Chang ripped the front of Maggie's garment down to her waist and a little beyond with only her rope belt keeping the dress around her hips. Maggie gasped and tried to turn away but was prevented by the chains that held her to the post.
The men's eyes grew wide as they took in Maggie's naked beauty, then a burst of cheering and laughter filled the air swelling to an unbelievable crescendo. The fat man gaped at her then nodded to Chang as the pirate reiterated his monetary demand. Chang smiled wider than she had ever seen him smile before and turned to his men in triumph. They all cheered lustily for him and the half nude Maggie.
Maggie groaned and prayed for a lightning bolt to take her life. Lin who had stood next to her the whole time leering at her, covered her with a thin shawl and unlocked the end of the chains fastened to the post. He roughly dragged her away past the rows of shouting men toward a small ramshackle hut made of weather-worn planks. She avoided looking at the fat man, her new owner, and missed the lust filling his eyes as he watched her being dragged into the hut.
Lin pulled her through the doorway and over to another post that was firmly sunk into the ground and passed the chains through a metal loop that was screwed into the wooden pole. At the last second before Lin closed the padlock, she yanked on the chain with all her strength to jerk the chain free from the powerful Lin, but to no avail. Lin looked at her and laughing locked up the chains. He yanked the shawl away from her and looked her over carefully. Maggie turned her back on him. Lin laughed again then left.
Maggie pulled and jerked the chains until her wrists were raw, but there was no hint of give in the post or the metal eye through which the chains were looped. The chains were set up to give her more play than when she was outside, but she could think of no way to use it to her advantage.
Maybe I can make them kill me, she thought in a panic as she realized what was going to happen in this smelly hut with the dirt floor. She looked out the window and saw the men beginning to drink and eat to celebrate God only knows what. Li Tai Su came through the doorway carrying a wooden bowl with some sort of food in it. Maggie waited until she was in range then viciously kicked the bowl out of her hand.
Li gave her a startled look and stepped back in shock. "Why -" she began.
"Because I hate you and everyone else within a thousand miles!" growled Maggie.
"You Americans!" replied Li. "You think everyone should be free all the time."
"Yes, free or die," said Maggie with vehemence.
"That is quite a foreign notion for most of us," answered Li. "Chang is free, but the rest of us ..." Her voice trailed off.
"Do you ever wonder what that would be like?" asked Maggie. "Free to do whatever you want, whenever you want."
Li gave her a puzzled look as if the thought was too much for her to assimilate.
"You can be free like that," said Maggie. "Get the key and both of us will get out of here."
Li Tai Su smiled. "You are in a dream. We would never get away."
"Sounds like they're all getting drunk out there. We can sneak away after a while," said Maggie with pleading in her voice.
Li shook her head, turned abruptly and walked out. Maggie slid to the ground in abject despair, tears filling her eyes. She gritted her teeth, fighting her emotions. She forced her thoughts to go far away in time and space. She had fantasized how sex might be with Hendrick. Soft music, soft lights, and hard muscles under her fingertips had always filled her mind, then sweet surrender with her erotic feelings lingering on for a long time. Instead she would be pawed on a dirt floor by a smelly, drooling, leech-covered fat man who had any number of diseases coursing through his veins.
The sunlight gradually faded and fires were lit, male voices filling the air with chants interspersed with savage whoops that split the air. The noise, and the flickering light from the fires went on for hours until Maggie thought that she might be left alone that night.
The door suddenly slammed open, and the fat man staggered through the doorway carrying a lantern. He was almost totally naked except for a filthy loincloth around his waist and a large knife in a leather scabbard held by a leather belt. Maggie smiled at him and gave him her sexiest look. He placed the lantern on a rickety table in one corner of the room, then gave her a toothy smile. He took off his knife belt then ripped his loincloth away from him. She rounded her lips as if to say ooohh and tried to put desire on her face. A little closer, asshole, she thought, and I'll give you a big surprise.
He jolted forward, lust lighting his eyes, his gaze fixed on her breasts. When he got within five feet of her he reached out for her. Maggie brought up her right foot in a vicious kick, aiming at his crotch, but missed, with her foot banging harmlessly into his upper thigh. She stepped forward, surprising him with her freedom of movement, and knocked one of his arms out of the way to close in on him. He staggered as the weight of his arm swayed him to one side just before Maggie hit him as hard as she could in the face with both manacled hands.
He stepped backward, lost his balance and fell heavily on his back. She saw blood running from his nose and was cheered by it. She prepared herself for the next attack. The fat man rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up to his knees. He reached for his belt and pulled out the longest, most wicked-looking knife Maggie had ever seen.
Now what do I do? she asked herself. Surrender, or have myself cut to pieces by this fat slob? I can't surrender. I'll have to fight as long as I can, she resolved. He stood and faced her then swung the knife with vicious slashing motions in front of him.
The thunderous report of an explosion pounded their ears and lit the night with the bright glare of temporary daylight. Light bits of straw and wood flew through the window driven by the overpressure from the detonation. When the air calmed down, Maggie could hear excited shouts from the men outside.
Another explosion lit the area, then a third and a fourth. Maggie's attacker looked around in confusion then went to the doorway and staggered through it, disappearing into the chaos outside. Automatic weapons' fire started up, filling the night air with lead.
Who was it? Maggie asked herself excitedly. Anything that kept her revolting attacker from her had to be good.
The door slammed open, startling Maggie and causing her to jump. In the flickering light from the lantern, Maggie was confronted by a man in a black outfit covering everything but his eyes.
He appeared to be a real-life Ninja.
CHAPTER 22
Freedom
Commander Chen Yanpeng gazed through the binoculars as his boat roared through the water of Palawan Island's largest bay. There were oil rigs to his right and a tanker used for oil storage that was permanently moored in the sound, all of them right where the charts and overhead photos showed them to be. Nothing had moved - all was quiet on the water, except Chen's five fast motor boats that made twenty-five knots over the water.
Steve Hendrick tapped the commander on the shoulder and received a cold look from the naval officer of the People's Republic of China. Chen's English was atrocious, and Hendrick's Chinese was nonexistent, so they were reduced to hand signals for communication. The sound was lined with many rivers, and it was anyone's guess on which river Chang's headquarters was located.
As they rounded a point of land, Hendrick pointed to a boat that was anchored in deep water just outside the shallow water created by the silt from various rivers that emptied into Malampaya Sound.
Hendrick said the one word he knew Chen would understand. "Chang." He pointed at the boat. It was one of the boats Chang had used near Itbayat Island. But his yacht was missing.
Chen nodded and pointed the vessel out to his helmsman, giving him orders to enter the river nearest the anchored boat and proceed upstream. The helmsman acknowledged the order and swung their boat around Chang's boat to line himself up with the river. Chen looked around after the maneuver and noted that one of his boats had slowed and pulled alongside the pirate craft to make sure they would not escape, while the remaining four pounded their way upstream for a rendezvous with Chang and his men.
Hendrick unslung his AK47, generously provided by the Chinese, and checked over the weapon and his ammunition. Hang on, Maggie, he thought nervously, then reslung the assault rifle over his left shoulder. He had told the Chinese that an American woman was being held by Chang and that he would escort her back to the United States with their permission. Their reply was something like we'll see.
A week had passed since he had asked Loh to go to the Chinese, and he had chafed at every delay, even agreeing to a relative pittance instead of the fifty percent he wanted for leading the PRC's forces to Chang's headquarters. The delay would have been six months if a quick reaction force hadn't been in existence, consisting of a secret joint PRC and Filipino command whose charter was to stamp out the pirates that operated throughout the Sulu Sea and up through the Taiwan Strait. The battle plan was to use the Chinese Navy to attack from the sea and the Filipino Army to attack from land.
Finally the smiling little bastard will get what was coming to him, thought Hendrick with satisfaction. He'll be surprised as hell to see me again.
Chen's boats went a mile up river until the river curved around and formed a natural cove. In the cove was Chang's yacht. Hendrick nodded excitedly and repeated Chang's name a few times to make sure Chen heard him.
This time Chen ignored him and issued orders in rapid fashion. The three inch guns on all the boats opened fire and pounded holes in the side of the yacht, ripping off pieces of wood and metal. Chang's command ship took on an immediate list and sank quickly in a few feet of water. Chen's boat quickly pulled up to the pier next to the now sunken yacht, and Chinese marines flowed from the main deck of their boat onto the pier's wooden deck.
"See ya, Chen. Thanks for the ride," said Hendrick and swiftly made his way from the flying bridge to the main deck to join the marines. He caught up with the trailing edge of them as they rapidly spread out to search the clearing. Hendrick looked around quickly, noting that the other three boats were also deploying their men around the small village that was Chang's headquarters.
Gunfire opened up on them from a half dozen different directions at once. Hendrick hit the ground and crawled up behind a palm tree. He pointed his rifle around the tree and returned fire a bare second before the marines returned a devastating barrage into the buildings and underbrush. Chang's forces fired a rocket-propelled grenade at one of the boats blowing a hole in the hull and sinking it in ten feet of water.
The guns on the boats, a combination of large caliber machine guns and light cannons all aimed at the source of the RPG and blew large holes in the jungle, sending trees, sand, brush, and body parts flying about. The boat crews kept up the barrage until that section of the area was totally devastated.
The marines began to move out and search each building. If they saw any movement within, they threw hand grenades through the windows. Hendrick knew he had to check out the rest of the buildings before the marines got to them. If Maggie was in one of them, perhaps tied up and unable to flee, he would lose her to the very people he was counting upon to rescue her.
Hendrick leaped to his feet, his weapon out in front and hoped that the small PRC flag he had taped to the back of his shirt would keep the boat crews from shooting him in the back. Automatic weapon's fire opened up to his right, filling the air around him with small concussions as the bullets flew inches from his head. He ducked but kept his legs moving toward a building that looked like it might house a beautiful American woman who was to be sold to the highest bidder.
A grenade went off to his right, and he caught a glimpse of several marines falling wounded. Hendrick piled through the closed door and rolled onto the dirt floor. He got quickly into a crouch and glanced around the room. It contained some ragtag furniture, a bed with stained coverings on it and a pole buried in the ground toward one wall. And something else.
Hendrick went around the bed and grabbed the human arm that was sticking out from behind a corner of the mattress. The arm belong to a young girl whom Hendrick had seen attending to Maggie when he was on Chang's yacht. He yanked her upright in spite of her attempt to pull away. She expected to be beaten, or worse.
"Where's Maggie?" asked Hendrick, his hand squeezing her arm unmercifully. He wanted the answer quickly before the Chinese navy blew up the hut that Maggie was in.
"Not here," said Li Tai Su.
"I can see that," growled Hendrick. "Which hut is she in?"
"She was taken away," replied Li.
"Where? Who took her?" asked Hendrick.
"Don't know," pleaded Li. "Some kind of raiding party."
"Where did they go?" asked Hendrick.
"Don't know," answered Li. "They hit and took only her."
Hendrick stared at her, trying to determine if she was telling the truth. She certainly seemed frightened enough. Hendrick let her go and ran to the door. The Chinese marines had swept through the huts, killing almost all the inhabitants although they began to round up a few bedraggled survivors in the middle of the clearing. In the distance he could hear what he thought were the sounds of multiple M16s firing with a few AK47s thrown in. Chang's forces had been driven inland and had run smack into the Philippine Army units positioned in the jungle to cut them off. Hendrick listened carefully to the cacophony of sounds coming from the jungle. He judged by the sounds of the numerous M16s, which were used by the Filipinos, that Chang's forces were getting hit hard.
The battle was finally over, smoke from a dozen hand grenades lingering among the trees and foliage. Hendrick took a step outside and studied the area, intending to continue his search for Maggie.
A blur in his peripheral vision turned quickly into a large bulk of a man who hit Hendrick with a lowered shoulder and drove him backward into the hut. They both hit the dirt floor, and Hendrick immediately kicked his way clear of his attacker. The two men separated and stared at each other while Hendrick tried to regain his breath. He inhaled painfully then recognized his adversary. The man five feet away was Lin, Maggie's large bodyguard.
Hendrick picked up a chair then glanced toward the doorway where he had dropped his AK47. Both he and Lin were equally distant from the weapon. Lin saw the look and immediately lunged for the rifle. Hendrick drove toward him with the legs of the chair out in front catching him across the neck with the lower rungs of the chair. He changed Lin's course barely enough to prevent the big man from picking up the rifle.
Lin grabbed the chair and wrenched it from Hendrick's grasp in one powerful motion while Li Tai Su circled around the men and headed toward the door. Hendrick half turned his back toward Lin as the big man threw the chair away disdainfully. Lin charged toward Hendrick.
The American waited a fraction of a second until Lin had come within range then rotated his body and swung his right fist with all his weight behind it. Hendrick's fist slammed into Lin's face, sending a spray of blood into the air and snapping the pirate's head upright, but hardly slowing the big man's charge.
Lin's body kept going and pounded into Hendrick, sending him crashing to the ground and sliding painfully into the legs of the bed. Lin staggered forward a few steps and shook his head to clear it. He wiped his face and glared at the streak of blood on the palm of his hand.
Hendrick got shakily to his feet only to receive a thunderous punch from Lin, which sent him sprawling once again. He blinked his eyes quickly to clear his fogged vision and saw Lin standing over him with a thick wooden table high over his head ready to bring it crashing down. He could only raise his arm to shield himself from the impending blow.
An automatic weapon suddenly opened up, sending a host of lead into Lin's back and through his body, opening up large holes in the flesh of Lin's chest. Lin gurgled blood and surged forward, falling dead at Hendrick's feet.
Hendrick looked toward the doorway and saw Li Tai Su with the AK47 in her hands. He stood slowly and staggered toward the young Oriental girl while wiping blood from his nose and mouth. She handed the weapon over to him without resistance.
"Thanks," said Hendrick, the word coming out distorted through swollen lips. He stared at her, his face asking why.
"Once in a while he would rape me," said Li in an exhausted voice. "And if I became pregnant, he would kill the babies." She looked at Hendrick with pitiful eyes. "Sometimes when they were still inside me." She lifted her blouse and showed Hendrick scars that crisscrossed her stomach.
Hendrick grimaced at what was done to her, and his thoughts immediately went to Maggie. Would she meet the same fate? Hendrick's stomach turned over, wondering where she was and who had taken her. He tried to shove the thoughts out of his mind by turning to Li Tai Su. She was staring at Lin's body with tears of hatred flowing down her face.
"He'll never do that again. Now you are free," he said. She looked at him uncomprehendingly. He turned to go out the door then glanced over his shoulder at her. "You had better stick close to me. The Chinese might shoot you before I can prevent it."
Hendrick walked outside and surveyed the area. The Chinese were already at work, stacking the cases of gold up near their boats. Several Philippine Army members were present with a small delegation hovering near the gold. The Chinese and the Filipinos had agreed to split the take, even though the Chinese had claimed any treasure taken from the Awa Maru was theirs, stolen by the Japanese during World War II. The Chinese were to take the gold, all of it, and later recompense the Filipinos in U.S. dollars. His share was to be taken by the Chinese and paid to him in U.S. dollars a month later. His cut was a bit over a million dollars. He would have traded it all in an instant to see Maggie again.
Guttural orders were issued by a Chinese officer and a troop of men marched in a line, stopping in front of the remaining survivors of Chang's forces. The survivors sat on the ground, leaning against trees and looking about in confusion. The troop of Chinese turned on order, facing the prisoners, then brought their assault rifles up to their shoulders, aiming at the ragtag pirate remnants. Some of the prisoners suddenly caught on and turned to flee in panic. The officer's quick order and the shattering blast from the Chinese cut them down. A few more scattered bursts from the Chinese rifles and all was still.
Hendrick knew he should be shocked at the killing of the prisoners, but he felt nothing. Li Tai Su's treatment at the hands of the pirates had shown him just what kind of animals they were. Right at the moment he couldn't get worked up about the illegal and immoral way the remaining pirates were disposed of.
Two Chinese marines spotted Li and moved to take her from Hendrick. He put up his arm to hold them back, and she shrunk behind the big American. The Chinese shouted something incomprehensible to Hendrick who stood resolute.
"You must be the American," said a voice to Hendrick's left.
Hendrick glanced at the man, seeing that he was a Filipino officer.
"Why do you want to save this girl? In love already?" asked the amused Filipino.
"She saved my life," replied Hendrick while keeping his eyes on the Chinese sailors confronting him. They hadn't raised their rifles yet, but they were on the verge.
The Filipino spoke in Chinese, and one of the Chinese marines looked over his shoulder in an uncertain manner. He said something in a loud voice and Commander Chen's head poked up from a group hovering over the stack of gold. He replied in an annoyed tone, and the two Chinese marines began to relax. They gave Hendrick a dirty look and slowly walked away.
Hendrick let out a sigh of relief and turned to the Filipino officer.
"Thanks," Hendrick said and extended his hand. The Filipino gripped his hand in a warm handshake.
"Captain Carlos Andal," said the officer. He gave Hendrick a sideways look. "She really save your life?"
Hendrick nodded and jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the hut where Lin's body was already swelling in the heat. "Check it out."
The Filipino walked up to the doorway and poked his head in. He came back with an appreciative smile for Li Tai Su. "She really did a job on the fat boy."
"Yeah. Saved my ass," said Hendrick. He looked around the clearing. "I don't see Chang or any of his lieutenants."
"We didn't find him, or the other two, Yum and Xu. They apparently took off after someone attacked them a few days ago," said Andal who fished a cigarette out of a crushed pack from a shirt pocket. He offered Hendrick one, but he declined with a wave of his hand. Andal looked Li Tai Su over and smiled at Hendrick. "So, what are you going to do with her?"
Hendrick gave him a disgusted glance. "Nothing. Not a thing," he replied. "Maybe it's time she was free for once."
Andal raised his eyebrows. "Yes, maybe," was his quiet reply. "We'll have to question her for a bit just to see if we can find out where Chang has gone, but she won't know anything. They never do. Maybe we'll just escort her to the nearest village. After that -" He shrugged.
"She'll be okay, won't she? I mean you'll treat her all right," asked Hendrick.
Andal gave him a half insulted look. "I can control my men. We are not like these vermin." He gestured to the pile of dead pirates in the center of the clearing.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything," said Hendrick who was chastened by the Filipino's reply. The Filipino officer nodded to acknowledge the apology.
The Filipino troops set fire to the small village as well as the pile of corpses from the battle. They could see that the Chinese had lost several marines and sailors in the battle. The Filipino army as well had taken some casualties. The Filipinos carried their dead and wounded on stretchers inland down a narrow road to their trucks, which were located well inside the jungle. Captain Andal took his leave of Hendrick and went over to his troops in the clearing. Li Tai Su waited until Andal left then walked up to Hendrick.
"Is Miss Ramsey your woman?" she asked.
Hendrick grunted to himself. "Miss Ramsey is her own woman. She doesn't belong to anyone."
"I think she loves you," Li said with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Hendrick gave her a sharp look. "What makes you think that? Did she say that?"
"It was the way you looked at each other while you were held captive on Chang's boat," replied Li. "Even that stupid pig Lin knew that. And I think you love her."
Hendrick's stare softened, but he didn't want to confirm Li's suspicions. Was it all that obvious? "You liked Maggie, didn't you?"
Li Tai Su nodded and her smile grew. "She was so different from me. So intelligent, so big and beautiful - and free."
"Now you're free, and she isn't," said Hendrick in a low voice.
"Free?" said Li and looked around confused. "I've never been free my whole life. Chang had become my family after they had died in an earthquake. Chang had always taken care of me," she added in a voice that betrayed her realization of what would not happen next. She would not have Chang to lean on anymore. But she wouldn't be brutalized by Lin either.
Hendrick saw that the Filipino Army was about to depart. He had arranged to tag along with the Filipinos to take a plane to Manila, then back to Taipei. He fell into line with Captain Andal's men and turned to look back at the burned-out village.
He saw Li Tai Su at the end of the line of Filipinos. She turned and gave the area a relieved, yet nostalgic, final look. She then turned and marched into the jungle with the rest of them.
I was there.
Masaya Konaka sat in the middle of the spacious stateroom on his privately owned freighter and meditated on things long past. He was in a lotus position with his hands resting gently on his thighs, his back ramrod straight, and his eyes closed. His breathing was a bare whisper.
I marched out of Kagoshima with Saigo Takamori on February 17, 1877 to destroy the Kumamoto Castle and the government's army of conscripts within.
Once again he felt the snow hit him as the wind drove the flakes against his body and face. The sting of the weather was nothing compared to the Japanese government's actions of the previous year. In 1876 the government had outlawed the carrying of swords, knowing that the samurai carried two swords on their person to enforce justice in their fragmented society. In the same year they had also effectively destroyed the samurai pensions. The nine thousand samurai that marched from Kagoshima in the Satsuma region of the island of Kyushu to do battle with the government's soldiers carried the sting of those indignities with them.
For nearly a thousand years the samurai, "those who serve," acted as the warriors in feudal Japan. They served honorably as keepers of the peace, as administrators, in the service of feudal lords, as battlefield commanders, and dishonorably as assassins. They served governments and rebelled against them, and were inextricably woven into the fabric of Japanese legend.
Four days after marching out of Kagoshima, the Satsuma samurai arrived at Kumamoto Castle and clashed with advance units of the Japanese Imperial Army, the samurai Snider and Enfield rifles erupting with volleys of fire. They surged forward, their wakizashi, short swords, drawn and their daito, long swords brandished over their heads and gleaming in the sun. The samurai quickly drove the army back within the walls of Kumamoto.
The next day the Satsuma samurai assaulted the walls of the castle by creeping over the ramparts and were attacked by rifle fire from the defenders.
I scaled the walls. I died at Kumamoto. I marched with Saigo.
The defenders of Kumamoto were mostly draftees and as such were untested in combat. Their initial success in driving the attackers back was due to their use of rifles. Eventually with ammunition running out on both sides, sword attacks became common with the samurai confident that they would overcome the soldiers in the older style of fighting.
For a month the attacks continued with the defenders holding on, even though food was running out. On April 14, a relief column of the Japanese Imperial Army arrived and drove off the attacking samurai. The army chased the samurai back to the Satsuma area and eventually to Kagoshima.
The remaining few hundred samurai made a last stand on a hill near Shiroyama overlooking the bay.
I was at Shiroyama in the cave waiting for the end.
Thirty thousand army troops surrounded the last of the samurai. On September 24, at four o'clock in the morning the army attacked. The brave samurai ran down the hillside to join the army in battle. The army opened fire and Saigo Takamori, the leader of the Satsuma samurai, was hit. One of his loyal followers, Beppu Shinsuke, picked him up on his shoulders and carried him to a place on the hill where Saigo could commit suicide.
I, Beppu Shinsuke, helped Saigo complete his death with honor.
With a powerful swing of his sword, Beppu decapitated Saigo, fulfilling the role of the loyal second in the ritual of hara-kiri. Beppu then charged down the hill to be cut down by the army's rifles.
I am Beppu, Saigo, and all the others. I was at Kagoshima, Kumamoto, and Shiroyama.
I was there.
Masaya Konaka stared through the binoculars at the rapidly approaching dots on the horizon. A minute later, he made out three fast patrol boats, which sent rooster tails of sea spray into the air behind them. He turned and ordered his own ship to stop engines, then nodded to his lieutenant to get ready. The man rushed off to see to his men and their readiness for what was to come.
Samurai, Konaka thought with satisfaction. But they no longer carried swords as his great-grandfather had. The samurai enjoyed great authority back in his great-grandfather's day, and they were not ashamed to wield it. Such power was accorded to them that they had become a competing force with the government, so the government struck back at them. The samurai had no choice but to rebel and were destroyed in the end.
Konaka's thoughts soured. His great-grandfather had marched with the Satsuma rebels against the Kumamoto Castle, but the army had changed the face of Japan. They were no longer afraid of the samurai.
That was the beginning, decided Konaka. The beginning of the destruction of Japan. It wasn't the Second World War as everyone thought. It was the end of the reign of the samurai. Now what did the Japanese people have? Certainly not their own country, he fumed. Japan was not theirs when the Americans dictated everything for them. The Americans had decided the kind of government for the Japanese people, they had dictated trade rules, and they controlled the government throughout. The current Japanese administration was just as corrupt as any other, including the recent one, which took bribes from large American companies. The Americans called their politicians the best that money can buy. Konaka gritted his teeth. The Japanese people had a government, which was the best that the Americans could buy.
The three motor boats were close by, slowing to pull alongside the now stopped freighter. Konaka's eyes locked onto Commander Chen Yanpeng of the Chinese Navy. From the expression on Chen's face, Konaka knew he had been successful. His eyes wandered over the boats, wondering where the gold was and noting a string of bullet holes in one of the boats. Apparently Chang had resisted.
Konaka shook his head imperceptibly. What was that law that the Americans were so fond of? Murphy's Law? And Murphy was an optimist, so the Americans say. His allies had gotten their signals crossed. Initially Chang was supposed to steal the treasure from Hendrick, but he failed when Hendrick failed to raise the treasure last year.
Then the treasure was to be delivered by Loshak and Drukarev to his island. They were to hijack the submarine if necessary. But Chang, not knowing about the two SVR agents in Konaka's employ, had beaten them to it. Chang was supposed to deliver the gold to him but had gotten greedy and had run off with it. Konaka, in an agreement with Commander Chen, had arranged to have the gold taken from Chang and brought to him by the Chinese Navy. Loshak and Drukarev had babbled about some bank notes, sixty year old bank notes! Konaka sighed. He wished he had had some of his own people on the submarine instead of these greedy, incompetent mercenaries. The conversation over the radio with Loshak and Drukarev had resulted in a rare explosion of anger from Konaka. He had wanted gold, not useless bank notes.
Commander Chen waved, and Konaka nodded to him. The deal had been unusual. Chen wanted the monetary equivalent of half the gold and was willing to give the other half to Konaka if he would spirit him and his men away with new identities. Konaka had agreed readily - he was certainly capable of that given his contacts with the Yakuza, Japan's organized crime families. But the Yakuza was useful only for information; they didn't believe in what Konaka and his organization, Shinri no Kiro, believed. Shinri no Kiro was dedicated to the return of the Japanese government back to the Japanese people, or a "Return to the Truth" as the name of his organization stated. No, the Yakuza would only try to stop him if they knew what he was about to do. In the end they will perish as so many others will, thought Konaka. The only way to restore the government back to the people was to destroy it completely, then rebuild.
The boats had pulled alongside, the excitement on the faces of the Chinese apparent. They babbled excitedly among themselves and hurried to attach the cargo hooks to the loads of gold from the small interiors of the motor boats. The gold was transferred quickly. Konaka was surprised what a small package it made. He had been told by Chen that there was seven hundred million dollars in gold at Chang's headquarters. He had expected something much bigger in size.
One of his men ran up and breathlessly told him that the gold was all aboard. Konaka nodded and the man rushed away. Konaka's men helped the Chinese aboard, and there was a great deal of back slapping and shaking of hands even though most of his men didn't understand Chinese, and most of Chen's men didn't understand Japanese. There were forty of Konaka's men and twenty of Chen's men. About the right ratio, thought Konaka idly.
He looked over the side once again and saw that the motor boats were markedly deeper in the water than before. Chen's men had scuttled their boats, confident of a ride to their next destination. Konaka ordered the ship's captain to get underway again, then turned and stared out the bridge windows at the horizon ahead of them.
One step closer to a deal with the arms merchants of the world, Konaka thought calmly as the gunfire began amidships. They were the ones with all the contacts to get him what he wanted. The screams of the surprised Chinese sailors mingled with the brutal bursts of automatic weapons' fire until only the chattering of the weapons remained. A moment later the weapons stopped, leaving a curious silence. One step closer to the destruction of the Japanese government, thought Konaka.
One step closer to the rebuilding of Japan.
CHAPTER 23
Bank Notes
SVR HEADQUARTERS, YASENEVO
Georgi Bakhtin ran his fingers through his hair and looked warily once again at the two SVR agents seated in front of his desk.
"Let me see if I understand this," Bakhtin began. "You both are saying that the documents in the metal cylinder were never recovered. You are both sure of that." He stared pointedly at Loshak.
Loshak nodded with supreme confidence. Bakhtin shifted his gaze to Drukarev. He nodded as well, taking his cue from Loshak.
"And how do you know this?" asked Bakhtin.
"We examined everything recovered by Hendrick and his crew. There was nothing resembling the sealed cylinder you described," replied Loshak.
"And nothing could have gotten past you?" asked Bakhtin skeptically.
"Nothing. One of us was present whenever anything was brought on board the submarine," answered Loshak. It was a lie, but Loshak knew Bakhtin had no way to find out the truth.
Bakhtin nodded and started to accept what he was being told. "Good," he said to the satisfaction of the two agents. He leaned forward to hear the answer to his next question. "And why were you at the Finance Ministry this morning?" He eyed the both of them closely.
The two agents were taken by surprise. They stammered for a moment until Bakhtin stopped them. "You were trying to find out if some American bank notes were worth anything."
"Ah, yes, the bank notes," said Loshak slowly. "We were going to tell you about that."
Bakhtin gave them a look that made them cringe. "Where did you get these bank notes?"
"This was the ten million dollars in American bank notes recovered from the Awa Maru," stated Drukarev proudly in an abrupt switch from defense to offense.
"The treasury of the Russian Federation could use this money, don't you think?" said Loshak. "The Americans wanted to sneak away with this treasure, but we stopped them."
Bakhtin gave the two a disgusted look. "And you both weren't thinking of keeping any of this for yourselves, were you?"
The two agents' eyes grew wide with innocence, both denying it vociferously.
"Where are the bank notes now?" asked Bakhtin.
Loshak swallowed hard. "They are in a safe in a local bank."
RUSSIAN FINANCE MINISTER'S OFFICE
COUNCIL OF MINISTER'S BUILDING IN THE KREMLIN
"Yes, these were quite unusual to say the least," said Valentin Gradov, finance minister for the Russian Federation. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a bank note from the Awa Maru and held it up to the light. Georgi Bakhtin shifted his weight nervously in the stiff backed chair and wished Gradov would hurry to tell him what the bank notes were worth. Gradov adjusted his glasses and peered at the note for an inordinate amount of time.
"Appears to be genuine too," Gradov mumbled to himself.
"So what is it all worth?" asked Bakhtin unable to contain his curiosity any longer.
"Worth?" exclaimed Gradov as if he had just heard the word for the first time. "Well, on the face of it, we have ten million dollars in U.S. notes. Adjusting for inflation ... oh, no, we can't do that. Well, figuring the interest since 1937 when most of them were issued -" Gradov pulled out a calculator and started to punch in numbers. "Let's say three percent a year, which is quite a lot for back then." He punched in more numbers. "Well, that's roughly fifty-nine million dollars."
Bakhtin almost smiled. "I can tell my superiors the notes are worth that much then?"
"Well, you see, there is a problem," said Gradov who readjusted his glasses to look straight at Bakhtin.
"What problem?" asked Bakhtin.
"Well, the notes are only good as long as there is a bank willing to redeem them," said Gradov in an apologetic manner.
"The bank no longer exists," concluded Bakhtin with a sinking feeling.
Gradov nodded slowly. "I checked with my contacts in the Federal Reserve Board in the United States. This bank went out of business in 1947."
Bakhtin inhaled deeply and leaned back seeing a hoard of money slip away. He couldn't very well point to a pile of useless paper and try to claim a victory.
At least Alexi Koroayev will be pleased to learn that whatever was in the mysterious cylinder on the Awa Maru would never see the light of day, he thought. But why would he be so pleased?
Hours later Steve Hendrick made his way through the tourists and entered the Council of Minister's Building in the north central part of the Kremlin. He ascended the stairs of the two-story office building past steely-eyed guards with automatic weapons. Russia had become an armed camp almost as it was in years gone by, but not for the same reasons of fear of enemies from without. The bodyguards were present due to the enemy within, the crime bosses of Russia. Many people in the finance end of the economy had been murdered outright when they turned down advances from the criminal element in Russia.
After showing his passport a half dozen times, Hendrick was finally let into the outer office of Russia's finance minister, Valentin Gradov. He took a seat next to Gradov's office door and settled down to wait under the watchful and appreciative eye of Gradov's secretary.
The intercom on the secretary's desk came alive, and Hendrick heard that he was invited in. He got to his feet, gave the secretary a smile, and went into Gradov's office. He immediately went over and shook hands with the finance minister.
"Ah, we meet again, Mr. Hendrick. Please sit down," said Gradov and waved Hendrick to a chair opposite his desk. "When you came to me with your problem, I was not sure I could help you, but fortune has smiled upon us this day."
Hendrick smiled and received a return smile from the aging Russian.
"You have some news?" asked Hendrick.
"Yes, you see these notes -" Gradov pulled one from his desk drawer. "I kept one as a souvenir - are very unusual. Issued in 1937 by a bank in New Jersey. This bank no longer exists."
"They're worth nothing?" asked Hendrick with disappointment.
"A number of people have jumped to conclusions today," Gradov admonished.
Hendrick sat back and patiently waited for the minister to get around to his explanation.
"This bank went bankrupt years ago. So, you see, on the face of it these notes are worthless," explained Gradov. He suddenly got a twinkle in his eye. "However, other banks sometimes pick up a failing bank's obligations."
Hendrick began to smile again.
"Under a deal worked out by your government, another bank was awarded all the failed bank's assets as long as it met the failed bank's obligations," Gradov went on. "Of course, it didn't fully meet the obligations, so investors in the failed bank got only a part of their money back. Interest on the obligations was frozen as well."
"How much?" asked Hendrick who was growing weary of the financial mumbo-jumbo.
Gradov looked over the tops of his glasses in annoyance at Hendrick's remark. "Americans are only interested in what you call the bottom line. You have no appreciation of the finer aspects of international finance."
Hendrick nodded, then waved his index finger in a circle to say get on with it.
"At forty percent and with no interest accumulating on these notes, the total value is approximately -"
"Four million?" asked Hendrick.
"Yes, so you see, I have solved your problem for you," said Gradov.
"Yes, for fifty percent," said Hendrick sourly.
"A most equitable arrangement," replied Gradov. "I get half for - what do you Americans say? Launder it? And you get half for bringing this matter to my attention and for keeping quiet about it."
"You have my share in the form I wanted?" asked Hendrick.
Gradov opened his desk drawer and withdrew two small books. He looked in each one then handed them over to Hendrick who examined them. Satisfied, he slipped them into his coat pocket.
"I am sometimes amazed at how fast this old bureaucracy can move when it is a minister of Russia who is doing the prodding," said Gradov.
"Thank you, Minister Gradov. I am most grateful," said Hendrick, rising to his feet.
"I am going to retire soon, did I tell you?" said Gradov pleasantly.
"No, you didn't," replied Hendrick.
"I hear Switzerland is nice," said Gradov with a smile.
Georgi Bakhtin shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other and tried not to stare at the man in the comfortable chair in front of him. Alexei Koroayev spoke in a low voice into the telephone and kept his eyes away from Bakhtin, completely ignoring him. The phone call went on for ten minutes, and it seemed to Bakhtin that Koroayev was stretching out the call to impress upon the SVR agent how unimportant he was. Finally Koroayev hung up the phone.
"Yes, Comrade Belikov?" Koroayev inquired while reading some papers he had in one hand.
"Bakhtin, Comrade Koroayev," replied the agent trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.
Koroayev lifted his eyes and finally focused on the impatient agent before him. Bakhtin waited for him to speak, but he said nothing.
"Regarding the matter of the documents in the cylinder on the Awa Maru," began Bakhtin. "I can report -"
"I understand that this American adventurer found nothing of the sort," said Koroayev and lowered his eyes back to the papers in his hand.
Bakhtin's eyes widened in surprise. "I see that you already know all about it."
Koroayev didn't reply immediately - another gesture of Bakhtin's relative unimportance. "Anything else, Comrade?" asked Koroayev without raising his eyes.
"No, Comrade Koroayev," replied Bakhtin. That was the end - he was dismissed. He abruptly turned on his heel and walked out of Koroayev's plush apartment. Bakhtin descended the stairs, his mind filled with curiosity about the contents of the metal cylinder on the Awa Maru.
Would he ever find out what was in those mysterious documents?
Hendrick knocked on the thickly painted door in the overcrowded apartment house. He heard someone say something in a loud voice, and a second later the door was yanked open. Golubev's heavy, lined face filled the doorway, his mouth immediately dropping open in excitement.
"Stephen! What a surprise!" exclaimed Golubev. "Come in! Come in!" He stood aside and waved the American into his flat.
"Viktor Ivanovich, how are you?" said Hendrick. He had come to regard the old Russian with affection.
"I am well, Stephen. Come, sit down, and we will drink and sing," said Golubev.
He led Hendrick to his kitchen table and introduced him to his wife, Katya. She brought out a bottle of vodka and two glasses and set them in front of the two men. They started out by toasting each other, then they toasted their submarine crew. Golubev quickly poured another round. It was Hendrick's turn to toast and he searched for something. He didn't have to search very far.
"To Katya, wife of Viktor Ivanovich!" said Hendrick and stood facing Katya who blushed with surprise. Her husband stood and faced her as well. They solemnly drank, then all three of them burst into laughter. When the laughter died down, Golubev looked at Hendrick curiously.
"It is my turn," he said as he stared mischievously at his American friend. He refilled their glasses and held his glass up ceremoniously. "To Maggie, Stephen's lover!"
Hendrick's mouth fell open, but he was feeling too well from the drinks to take any offense. He hadn't thought Golubev knew about Maggie. They toasted Maggie with gusto.
"To Maggie, wherever she is," said Hendrick and threw down the drink in one gulp. He knew he would soon feel the effect of this drink to Maggie. That's fine, he thought. Maybe I'll stop thinking about her.
"Listen, Viktor Ifan-a-vich," began Hendrick by slurring the Russian's name. "Before we start doing some really serious drinking, I have to give you this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the small books given to him by Finance Minister Gradov. He double checked the amount shown in the book, then handed it over to Golubev.
"What is this?" asked Golubev curiously. He opened the book and stared at the numbers on the first page, then gave Hendrick a penetrating look.
"Numbered Swiss bank account holding about one million three hundred thousand dollars," replied Hendrick. He looked the old Russian straight in the eye. "A deal is a deal, as we say in America."
"How?" asked Golubev in a shocked voice.
"Let's just say that we have had our day," replied Hendrick, repeating what he had told Golubev when they were leaving Itbayat Island. "I got some of the bank notes back from those two fascist morons, Loshak and Drukarev."
Katya leaned over her husband's shoulder and read the numbers, which were in Swiss francs. Her eyes went wide open. She squeezed her husband's shoulder and suddenly had tears in her eyes. Golubev just stared at the numbers in the little book.
"You will take care of your men, won't you?" asked Hendrick. "Especially the family of the one who was killed by Chang's men."
Golubev looked up at him and determination filled his face. "Da! This captain takes care of his men!"
Hendrick nodded and refilled the glasses himself. "I knew you would."
Hendrick, Golubev, and Katya proceeded to get rip roaring drunk.
CHAPTER 24
Reunion
TAIPEI, TAIWAN
Steve Hendrick hung up the phone and nodded to himself. In a few hours he, Malik, and his Taiwanese friend Loh would be headed back into the Taiwan Strait to recover the diamonds he had hidden almost a month ago while on board the Russian submarine. They would make the transit under cover of darkness to Niushan Dao, the island near where he had hidden the diamonds.
He sat down on the bed and eyed the half empty bottle of sour mash whisky sitting on the bedside table. No, no more drinking for a while, he decided and wondered why he had been drinking so heavily in recent weeks. Maybe losing seven hundred million dollars had something to do with it, he thought. Or maybe it was Maggie, always Maggie.
Hendrick got up and went into the bathroom. He ran water into the sink then splashed it vigorously on his face. The cold water tingled his skin, making him more alert.
A noise came from the main room of the hotel suite, a sound like a door shutting, then nothing. Hendrick ran a towel over his dripping face and cautiously opened the bathroom door.
There, standing in full view of him, was Maggie!
Hendrick froze and just gaped at her in shock.
"Hello, Steve," she said with an unpleasant tone in her voice.
Hendrick's eyes locked onto her face, and he grew dizzy at her astonishing beauty. She looked ravishing, not at all as if she were in the hands of pirates for several weeks. He dropped the towel and started to walk toward her without saying a word.
Maggie had her hands by her sides with her right hand a bit behind her, concealing the object in her grip. She backed up a step and brought her right hand out in front of her, pointing the gun straight at his stomach.
"We have to talk," she said firmly.
Hendrick didn't hear a thing she said. He totally ignored her weapon and walked straight up to her, the handgun brushing along his left arm as he moved to within a foot of Maggie. She backpedaled quickly, trying to get the gun barrel repointed toward his stomach, but her back hit the wall and she could go no further. Hendrick kept coming and in an instant he was next to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him.
"Hendrick!" she said in annoyance as she pointed the gun at his head pressing it against his temple so he would feel the cold steel of the barrel. "I have a gu -"
Hendrick's lips pressed on hers but she resisted, turning her face away from his, breaking the kiss. She turned her head back to look at him and saw the passion and relief in his eyes.
"Maggie," he said softly. He put his hand behind her head and slowly drew her lips toward his, allowing her to push away if she wanted to. She went willingly this time and their lips met in an explosive release of passion. He felt desire as he had never known it and ground his body into hers. She pushed back, working her hips back and forth as a prelude to the real act yet to come.
Hendrick heard the dull thump of something hard hitting the floor and realized that Maggie wasn't pressing whatever-it-was to the side of his head anymore. He pulled his head back to kiss her neck and heard her quick, deep breathing.
"Maggie, was that a gun?" he asked between kisses.
"It wasn't loaded," she gasped.
"I can't believe -" He planted half a dozen impassioned kisses on her neck. " - you're here." He inhaled deeply, and her fragrance went immediately to his head making him dizzy. There was an intoxicating mixture of the scent from her hair and the subtle perfume around her neck that totally captivated him.
"I escaped -" She lost her breath as he gently bit the muscle above her shoulder. " - no thanks to you," she finished in a rush.
"I came back for you," he said then ground his pelvis into hers.
She took a deep breath. "I heard about the Chinese raid on Chang." She pushed her hips tightly against his body. "Did you come back for me, or for the reward?"
"I was devastated when I didn't -" He hesitated as she wrapped her right leg around him. " - find you there. I didn't know where to look for you." He ran his hands down her back and over her buttocks to pull her even closer to him. "How did you escape?"
"I got my buyer drunk and ran away. I'm glad you figured out that the numbers I gave you were the coordinates for Chang's headquarters," she said between rapid, deep breaths.
"I wish you knew Russian better," he said as he ran a hand up her side to rest on one of her breasts. "I had a hell of a time finding out what the numbers meant." He began to unbutton her blouse with one hand.
"I should get - ohh," Maggie exclaimed in a low purr as Hendrick began to kiss the tops of her breasts above her bra. " - part of the reward," she finished in a gasp.
Hendrick stopped nibbling on her, tilting his head back to look her in the eye. "Okay," he said and quickly went back to work on her shoulders and neck. He maneuvered her away from the wall, and they slowly walked each other over to the bed, keeping their bodies welded together as Hendrick pulled Maggie's blouse free from her pants. He reached inside her blouse simultaneously feeling her skin under his fingertips and his own desire rise to an undreamt of level.
They slowly lay down on the bed with Maggie rolling to one side to allow him to get to the back of her bra. His hands came up to the bra hooks, and he began trying to release them. He had always had trouble with brassiere hooks and immediately started having trouble with Maggie's. She had one of the larger sized bras with four hooks, twice the work for ten times the pleasure.
He got one hook free, but the other three wouldn't budge. He pulled on the strap, but the hooks didn't break.
"I've seen battleships built weaker than this," he mumbled.
Maggie started to sit up to help him, but Hendrick pushed her back down. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a knife. He pushed a button on the side of the handle and the blade snapped out locking itself in place.
"And I thought you were glad to see me," she said with some trepidation.
He pulled the middle of her bra away from her body and cut the connecting fabric between the two cups. Her bra fell open and Hendrick gaped at her for a moment. Maggie's incandescent beauty swept into his mind, intoxicating him. He slid down on her to give her a long, passionate kiss. He moved down her neck, pausing to plant a kiss every quarter inch. She inhaled quickly as he kissed her breasts. Her breathing was heavy and fast. Hendrick began to kiss her stomach while fumbling to undo her belt.
There was a knock at the door.
"I don't believe this," he mumbled. He lifted his head and looked at the door. The knock came again, this time more insistent. "Who is it?" he asked in a loud voice.
"It's Joe, Steve. It's time to go," came the muffled voice through the door.
"Go away," said Hendrick.
"What do you mean 'go away'?" asked Malik in an annoyed voice.
"I'll meet you in the lobby," said Hendrick.
"Goddamnit, Steve, we have to leave now," said Malik. "Loh's waiting for us at the pier."
Maggie pulled her blouse around her. Hendrick gritted his teeth in frustration.
"Go attend to your business," she said and started buttoning herself up. He exhaled in frustration and went over to the door. Maggie disappeared into the bathroom. Hendrick opened the door a crack.
"Steve, time to go," said Malik. He tried to peer over Hendrick's shoulder to see who was in the room with him. "You got company?"
Hendrick nodded. "I'll meet you in the lobby."
Malik relented. "I'll give you five minutes. The tide isn't going to be right forever." Hendrick said goodbye and shut the door.
He looked around the hotel room until his eyes came to rest on the whiskey bottle. He threw some ice cubes into a glass and poured the glass three quarters full. Hendrick drank half of it in one motion, then turned to see Maggie looking at him with a mixture of annoyance and endearment on her face. She opened her blouse enough to show him the safety pin that held the front of her bra together.
"It's going to be tough to get a bra this size in Taipei," Maggie said. "I mean I could have taken it off."
"I'll buy you another one," he said.
"That switch blade looked familiar," she said. He pulled it out of his pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it and looked it over. "I'd like to keep this as a souvenir."
He shrugged and nodded unable to take his eyes off her. "Now I know what the word breathtaking really means."
Maggie saw the intense desire in his face, gave him a coy look and smiled. "Maybe later."
His face turned serious, more serious than she had ever seen it. Her smile faded. She changed the subject. "Where do you have to go?"
He gave her a look that told her it was none of her business.
Maggie went over and picked up her handgun off the floor. Hendrick watched her and shook his head slightly.
"So, how much are you going to get from the Chinese for taking them to Chang's headquarters?" she asked casually.
Hendrick wrinkled his forehead. "Where did you get a gun?"
"They sell them, you know," she replied and threw the gun on the bed.
"Why did you point it at me?" he asked.
"I thought maybe you wouldn't want to share the reward with me," she answered. "I confess I never expected the welcome you gave me."
Now I'm really confused, he thought. "How did you know where to find me?"
"A simple check of the hotel registry -" she began.
"At Itbayat Island," he corrected. "Where we were going to transfer the gold to the ship from the States. Someone had to tell Chang where the transfer was going to take place."
Maggie gave him a sideways glance. "How was I to know where the transfer point was? I was in Chang's hands, and the last time I saw you before that was when you dropped me off in Taipei almost a year ago."
That made sense, he thought, but I have a feeling that she's not telling me the whole truth. He decided to go fishing. "One of Chang's people said that you told Chang about Itbayat Island." He gave her a suspicious look.
"Who told you that?" she asked.
"Li Tai Su," he said, wondering what kind of reaction he would get from her.
Maggie's eyes grew wider in a subtle movement, and her face froze for just a second. Then she was back to normal, her face softening and relaxing in an instant. If he hadn't been staring at her, he would have missed it. He could only conclude one thing: she did tell Chang where to find the submarine.
"I think Li Tai had a very active imagination," she replied in measured tones.
Yeah, right, he thought. He sipped his drink and knew that there was much more to this mysterious woman. The question remained: how did she know where to find the sub?
"And who were those people you had me call in Taipei?" asked Hendrick.
Maggie didn't answer right away but gave him a look bordering on disappointment. "That was my employer, the Far East Trading Company," she said in a low voice.
"And the message: time is running out. Sounds like some sort of code," declared Hendrick. Maggie didn't answer. He had another thought. "Chang sold you to somebody?"
Maggie grew serious at the memory of feeling like a trapped animal. She nodded slowly.
"And then you got him drunk and ran away?" asked Hendrick, quoting Maggie previous remark. It sounded too simple.
"This is turning into a real interrogation. When do you stick splinters under my fingernails?" she asked.
Hendrick stared at her for a moment, then visibly relented and waved his hand to dismiss his forceful curiosity. Maggie let out a sigh and gave him a sideways look.
"So we'll split the reward from the Chinese, right?" asked Maggie.
He just looked at her. She waited for him to answer then picked up the gun off the bed and pointed it at him.
"I thought you said that wasn't loaded," he said gesturing at the weapon in her hand.
"I lied," she answered with a purr in her voice.
He walked boldly toward her, and she tried to back up, but the bed stopped her. He slowly took the gun out of her hand. He thumbed the button, releasing the clip, which popped out into his hand. Hendrick glanced down at the top of the clip and saw that it was empty. He looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"I lied about lying," she said in resignation.
"You're not very good at this, are you?" he said with an amused twist to his mouth. He threw the gun and the clip back onto the bed and picked up his drink.
"I guess not," she said. "So how much is the reward?"
The numbers danced in his head. He had gotten a little more than one million. The numbers hadn't been far from his mind for the last several weeks. If he split it with Maggie, her share would be over five hundred thousand dollars.
"One hundred grand," he said and looked into his drink.
"That's all they gave you" she asked incredulously. "You recovered over seven hundred million dollars from the Awa Maru."
"Yeah, they're cheap skates," he replied.
She thought for a moment. "So I get fifty grand?" she asked with a smile.
He nodded silently. So she didn't know the deal I made with the Chinese and Filipinos, he thought. Although not publicized, that deal was a matter of public record. Both governments wanted to show the rewards given out for turning in the bothersome pirates that raided ships on the seas between both countries. A little research and she could have found out. She knows some things that she couldn't possibly have known and doesn't know other things that would be easier to find out. Very strange indeed.
Maggie gave him a quizzical look. "You sure gave up easily with the reward money. Why?" He shrugged and stared into his drink. "The money doesn't mean that much to you, does it? It's only a means to an end. But what's the end?" Hendrick looked at her and said nothing.
"Your father's mission," she said. "Did you find what he was talking about?"
"No, it was impossible to find something that he never described."
"So, your share of the reward money will go toward another shot at the Awa Maru," said Maggie.
Hendrick was again surprised that Maggie had hit upon what he had been thinking. The reward money and the diamonds would finance another salvage attempt, but he wasn't about to tell her that, not just yet.
Maggie took a quick look around the room and gave Hendrick a big smile. "We're both rich. Let's celebrate. Tell your friend that you changed your mind. Put on some decent clothes and let's go out on the town."
"I can't," he replied. "I'll be back in a couple of days. Where can I look you up?"
She thought for a moment. "I'll find you."
Hours after Steve Hendrick had left, Maggie sat in her room thinking about her encounter with him. He had impressed her as a man to whom many women would give themselves willingly, even enthusiastically. He had a certain ruggedness about him, and she knew that women would be attracted to the sense of danger that seemed to surround him. She had to admit that she was attracted by those same qualities.
She was sure she hadn't misread the signs. He was head-over-heels for her, and she struggled greatly not to feel the same way toward him. Maybe after all this was over, she could let her real feelings out. A sharp pang of lingering desire ran through her, and she wallowed in it. She hadn't been excited like that by many men.
She ran down the list of men she had known and thought of the few to whom she had freely given herself. Hendrick was easily the most attractive.
Maggie looked up as she heard a knock on the door. She jammed her handgun into her belt and walked up to the door.
"Who is it?" she asked loudly.
"Miss Ramsey, I'd like to talk to you about a mutual friend of ours," said a voice muffled by the closed door.
"What mutual friend?" she asked.
"Stephen Hendrick," said the voice.
Who could this be? She placed her hand on the doorknob and hesitated for a moment. His English was good with a Far Eastern accent, but she wasn't sure if that put her at ease, or made her more anxious. She patted the weapon she had in the belt of her pants and pulled her blouse material over the gun's handle to keep it from view. Keeping her right hand free to reach for the gun if needed, she slowly opened the door with her left hand.
The man in the doorway locked eyes with her, and she put a "start talking" expression on her face. He was Japanese, tall and thin with straight black hair. He had a thin scarf covering his face, revealing only dead eyes. Maggie squinted at him, telling him with her eyes to pull down the scarf. He stared at her for a moment, then slowly drew away the scarf, the material conforming to the furrows in his face, making it seem as if he was removing his skin. The scarf fell away. His face was hard and he had a long scar from his left ear to the base of his neck.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he said pleasantly. "My name is Masaya Konaka."
CHAPTER 25
Diamond Strait
Loh Yi-Song searched the horizon with his binoculars for the hundredth time in the last five minutes as the throb of his boat's twin engines filled the night air around him. Thin fog slid along the top of the water, but it wasn't enough to totally obscure the light at the top of Niushan Dao, the island which was their destination. Loh watched the double flash, then counted off the seconds. Twelve seconds later the next set of flashes were sent from the lighthouse on Niushan Dao's peak. Niushan Dao was an island in the Taiwan Strait controlled by the People's Republic of China, and he knew they wouldn't like the idea of a Taiwanese and an American approaching their shores. The Communist Chinese could react violently to intrusions into their territory and often did.
Steve Hendrick finished his muted conversation with Joe Malik and arrived quietly at Loh's side. Loh gave him a status report, then asked a question he had asked several times before. "So, how much is out there?"
"Don't know. Millions," came the low reply.
"I would hate to think that I'm risking my life for anything less," replied Loh with a short glance in Hendrick's direction.
"All of life is a risk," said Hendrick. "So, why not make some money out of it?" Hendrick suddenly realized that he had used the same argument on Joe Malik to go after the Awa Maru after his brother was murdered.
"I hope you have better luck recovering the diamonds than you did recovering the gold," said Loh. "Did you get any of that reward from the Chinese yet?"
"Not yet," replied Hendrick. "They're supposed to mail it to my bank in the States any day now."
"At least with the diamonds you don't have to share it with anyone," said Loh. "But me," he added with a smile.
Hendrick grinned briefly. "Don't forget Joe and the divers that were with us, but if those diamonds are real, then we don't have anything to worry about. There's enough for all of us."
Loh scanned the water around them with some anxiety. Running at night in fog, even as light as it was, with no running lights and no radar was dangerous. They had attached flat steel panels to the sides of the boat to act as reflectors for any land based radar that looked out into the Taiwan Strait from mainland China. Flat surfaces reflect radar pulses away at angles that insure that the radar receiver won't receive them, thus achieving some measure of stealth. Hendrick wondered if the panels did any good, perhaps increasing the reflectivity of their craft to the Chinese radar pulses instead of decreasing it, but Loh adamantly claimed that he had done this several times before and it had always worked. The panels had the added "benefit" that oncoming vessels in the strait would not detect them on their radar until possibly it was too late, which further increased Hendrick's anxiety.
Loh glanced at his GPS receiver whose backlit readout gave off a dull glow. They were about seven miles from Niushan Dao, a little less than twelve miles from the mainland.
"We are inside Chinese territorial waters," said Loh.
Hendrick nodded in the darkness and thought that now it would be the Red Chinese coming after them if they were detected. They had a distinct lack of a sense of humor when it came to people invading their territorial waters. Loh backed off on the throttles and the noise from the twin diesels dropped significantly. The journey would be longer, but safer.
Hendrick picked up a set of binoculars and studied the flashing light seemingly suspended above Niushan Dao. He could barely make out the thin shaft of the lighthouse below the pulsing light. More fog rolled between them and the island, reducing the light to a fuzzy glow. Loh kept heading directly for the light, his boat's engines emitting a low rumble and barely making headway.
After three hours of crawling toward the island, Loh picked up the binoculars and searched the blackness below the light. Off to his right came three flashes of low-level light in quick succession. Loh waited until the third set of flashes then picked up a large flashlight. He turned the light on briefly twice, then waited fifteen seconds and repeated the procedure. The man on shore turned his light on briefly every fifteen seconds as Loh headed the boat straight for him.
Hendrick could feel the fog rather than see it. The moist air slid across his face wetting his skin with tiny droplets. He breathed deeply in the heavy air and searched the darkness ahead for the small pier that Loh swore was there. Loh cut the engines abruptly, allowing the sounds of the water to reach their ears. Hendrick could hear the water slapping against the sides of their boat, and he could also hear the water hitting something else. He stared into the night, shielding his eyes from the lighthouse and saw the outlines of the pier. Loh expertly let the boat drift toward the pier while Malik got ready with the bowline.
When the bow was ten feet from the pier, Malik threw the line to a man who immediately scrambled to pick it up and haul them in toward the pier. After getting the craft next to the pier, the man tied the line up to a small cleat secured to the wooden deck. Hendrick took a quick look around and was startled to see that they were in a cove protected from the sea. He marveled at Loh's ability to navigate the curved passage using no lights except the one from the man on the pier.
The trio jumped across the small gap between the boat deck and the deck of the pier and immediately went over to the man standing nearby. Loh hugged him, and they exchanged warm greetings in Chinese. Loh turned to Hendrick and Malik who could just make out his face in the darkness.
"Meet my cousin, Wong Po-Rong," said Loh.
Hendrick gave the shorter man a smile, which he doubted he could see in the dark and shook the man's hand. Malik murmured a greeting.
"He runs the lighthouse here for the People's Republic," explained Loh. He pushed the light button on his digital watch. "Only two hours till sunup. Let's transfer your equipment to his fishing boat right away."
Hendrick nodded again then mumbled agreement after realizing that Loh was probably having a hard time seeing his face. The plan was simple: use Wong's fishing boat for cover while he dove to recover the diamonds from the underwater cave where he had dropped them while maneuvering the ROV on the Russian sub. Any PRC patrols would only see Wong out fishing as they did periodically. They also would camouflage Loh's boat tonight to escape detection from the air or sea.
The four of them got busy and led by Wong, his flashlight beam diffused to a soft glow in the thickening fog, transferred Hendrick's tanks and other diving equipment to a dilapidated boat on the other end of the pier. Fog from the sea had followed them inland, and when they were finished their task, the mist swirled thickly around them. The four of them sat in the dark boat waiting for the first rays of light. After a few minutes Wong lit a lantern.
Hendrick got a good look at Wong for the first time and was surprised to see that he was much older than either Loh or himself. In the darkness he had seemed to move like a much younger man. Loh noticed his reaction.
"My cousin has been here since World War Two," said Loh. "He and his wife will retire soon and move back to the mainland. He had hoped that one of his sons would have taken over from him as he had done from his father, but it was not to be. All of his children have other jobs and moved away long ago."
Hendrick looked the boat over and noted the aged condition of the wood. A picture in a wooden frame was hung incongruously on one of the bulkheads. It showed what looked to be a family: father, mother, son and daughter along with another man. The family was Chinese; the other man was Caucasian.
Hendrick gestured to the picture on the inside wall of the boat and inquired who the people were. Loh listened to Wong for a moment then turned to Hendrick.
"He says that he is the small boy in the photo along with his parents and sister," explained Loh. "The other man is an American who he thought had escaped from the Japanese. His name was Robert Lindsey. One day near the end of the war, a boat came and took him away. He never saw him again."
"This happened during the war?" asked Malik.
Loh asked a question of Wong and listened to the reply.
"Yes. The picture was taken in 1945," replied Loh.
"Who was he? A pilot who was shot down? Or sailor from a sunken ship?" asked Hendrick. He was intrigued by the event so long ago with only a scrap of film and an old man's memory of when he was a small boy to mark its occurrence.
Loh asked the questions of Wong, but the old gentleman just shrugged. Hendrick thought for a moment, then on impulse walked over to his bag and pulled out a small camera. He went over to the old photo and snapped a picture, the flash glaring brightly in the dark. Hendrick didn't know why he wanted a copy of the photo and concluded that he was becoming fascinated with old things and events ever since he had gotten involved with the sinking of the Awa Maru so long ago.
Suddenly a loud noise split the air and made Hendrick, Malik, and Loh jump. They relaxed immediately when they recognized the long, loud, deep sound. The island not only had a lighthouse but a foghorn as well.
Hendrick rolled his eyes. "That's going to go on all night?"
Loh grinned. "Probably." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package and held it up for Hendrick's benefit. "Earplugs. It pays to be prepared."
Hendrick gave him a sour look and Malik groaned.
Loh pulled out two small packages identical to the first. "How much for these extra earplugs?"
"I'll throw an extra carat your way," said Hendrick with feigned surrender in his voice.
"It's a deal," replied Loh and gave him and Malik the earplugs.
Wong began to talk softly. He went on for a while then Loh began to translate for Hendrick's benefit. Wong began to laugh to himself and launched into an incredible story of the so-called psychological warfare that Taiwan had tried on the mainland Chinese. Balloons carrying propaganda and psychological warfare items were launched from the islands to drift toward China. One of the psychological warfare items was see-through underwear. It was felt by Taiwanese officials that this type of undergarment would somehow undermine the morale of the Communist Chinese. The four of them laughed until they cried.
Hendrick's two Chinese companions lapsed into silence then began to doze. He glanced at Malik who had his eyes closed and was breathing slowly. Hendrick screwed the earplugs into his ears to cut down the noise from the fog horn to a seemingly distant note every few minutes. His thoughts turned into random wanderings, eventually settling on Maggie as they seemed to do every night.
What was her game? he thought. Where would she pop up next? He had the fleeting thought that thinking about Maggie had prevented him from thinking about Frank's murderer. The horrifying evil face in his dreams had bothered him less since he knew Maggie.
Two hours later, Wong cranked up his single diesel engine and sputtered out to sea. The fog thinned as the sun came up and warmed the air, but the strait was as calm as it ever got with only some small waves to contend with.
Hendrick pulled out his GPS receiver and from memory punched in the coordinates of the underwater cave where the diamonds were hidden. He didn't trust writing them on a piece of paper - it could fall into the wrong hands. The GPS receiver gave headings to steer from their current position to their destination, which Hendrick called out to Loh who translated to Wong. Malik helped Hendrick put on his wet suit as gradually the distance narrowed, and the numbers representing their current location and the location of the cave merged into one.
Hendrick pulled on his tanks and mask with Malik's help and picked up a powerful underwater light. He sat on the boat's gunwale and gave the other three a thumbs up sign. Malik returned the sign.
"Good luck!" shouted Malik as Hendrick rolled backward over the side. After Hendrick reappeared on the surface, Malik threw him a small basket attached to a line, which Loh would use to pull the diamonds to the surface. Hendrick took hold of the basket and attached it to his belt, then waved and disappeared below the waves.
Ten feet the below surface the visibility went to zero, and Hendrick was forced to switch on his light. The beam cut through the murky water, and at a depth of twenty feet Hendrick found some underwater caves which all seemed to look like the one he was searching for. He let out a sigh of frustration, which sent a cloud of bubbles to the surface and got to work methodically searching each cave for his cache of diamonds.
The diving took most of the day with Hendrick periodically coming to the surface for a rest and new tanks. He had naively expected that with the GPS coordinates, which gave location within about thirty feet or so, he would make short work of locating the cave, but that was not to be.
In the seventh cave he saw the mud-covered edge of what appeared to be a thin rope. He waved at the mud with his hand, sending up a cloud of silt in the water, and continued waving to get some clear water over the object on the floor of the cave. He made a joyful noise in his mouthpiece as he recognized the net sack that he had suspended under the ROV.
Hendrick pulled out a knife and quickly cut the net open, then reached down into the mud to find the drawers that were filled with precious stones. His hands closed swiftly around one, and he yanked it free. The familiar oblong box greeted his eyes. He wanted to pry the cover open but it was locked with a padlock and he hadn't thought to bring along lock cutters. Just as well, he thought. I'm so excited I'd probably spill diamonds all over the seabed. He got two more drawers free and put them in the basket. He gave three hard tugs on the rope and felt Loh begin to reel in the basket, which rode along the anchor line that ran from the sea bed to the boat.
Hendrick went back inside the cave and dug the other drawers free, pulling on the net sack to get the remaining drawers out of the mud. After several trips of the basket to the surface, he placed the last two drawers into the basket and yanked on the rope, watching them make their short journey twenty feet to the surface.
Hendrick took one last look around and noticed one more object in the net. He quickly pulled it free from the mud and saw that it was the cylinder he had found in the Awa Maru's stateroom. He looked again at the Cyrillic characters on the outside surface. A curious item on a Japanese ship during World War Two, he thought. Hendrick jammed the object into his belt bag and swam for the surface.
Once on board, Malik immediately led him to the cabin and showed him the table with the drawers piled on top of it. Hendrick went over to the pile and absentmindedly pulled the cylinder out of his belt and placed it on the table. The tube rolled to the edge of the table and fell unheeded on the floor, rolling across the deck to the side of the cabin.
Hendrick pulled out the drawer that he had cut open when they had initially found the diamonds in the Awa Maru's safe. He pulled out his knife and cut the rope they had tied around it. Hendrick lifted the lid while Malik, Loh, and Wong crowded around him.
Mud had covered part of the jewels, but the rest near the back were untouched. They gleamed even in the dull daylight. Loh and Wong let out Chinese epithets of amazement.
"Gawd!" said Malik.
"Of such things, dreams are made," said Hendrick under his breath as his head swam with the value of just the diamonds in the open drawer in front of him. They all stared at the dazzling array of multisized diamonds.
"There must be hundreds of diamonds in each box," said Loh in amazement.
"Yeah, and you guys get one drawer each for helping me," said Hendrick magnanimously. He grinned at the shocked look on his friend's face, then grimaced at Malik's disapproving look.
Loh translated for Wong, and the old lighthouse keeper gaped at Hendrick in amazement for a moment, then he hugged Hendrick with all his strength. Loh exploded with laughter, and they all wound up singing and dancing around the table with the staggering fortune in diamonds on it. Loh and Wong sang a particularly bawdy song in Chinese, and Hendrick and Malik gave out a bellowing rendition of God Bless America.
After five minutes of hooting and hollering, they calmed down enough to get Wong back on the wheel to steer them on a return course to shore. Hendrick, Malik, and Loh hovered over the diamonds.
"Do you think all the drawers have diamonds in them?" asked Loh breathlessly.
"We'll open all of them when we get to shore," said Hendrick. He could hardly contain his own curiosity at what the other drawers held. There were other precious stones known to be on the Awa Maru when it went down, among them rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. All were valuable, but none had the value per weight that a diamond had.
"How will you liquidate your share?" asked Hendrick.
"I have some contacts that can do that for me," replied Loh with a smile. "I'll do Wong's share as well, then give him the money."
Hendrick nodded. "We have some people waiting in the States to liquidate our share. I made a quiet deal with them before I went out to salvage the Awa Maru."
Wong pulled his boat up to the pier behind Loh's boat and in his excitement bumped both the boat and the pier putting a dent in each. Loh yelled something in Chinese, which Hendrick imagined to be that the damage would come out of Wong's share. Wong looked over his shoulder and gave Loh a sheepish grin. Loh laughed at his cousin - he couldn't be angry for longer than a few seconds under the circumstances.
Hendrick jumped to the pier and took the line thrown to him by Malik. In seconds he had Wong's boat firmly secured to the pier. Hendrick pulled the camouflage net away from the aft deck of Loh's boat then returned to Wong's boat. They each grabbed a drawer and marched over to Loh's boat to load them on board. Hendrick was the first to jump down to the aft deck of the boat, but as he turned to walk forward, a figure appeared in the doorway to the cabin.
Hendrick's eyes focused quickly on the nine-millimeter handgun in the man's hand. His eyes darted up to the man's face. It was covered with a silk scarf except for his eyes, eyes devoid of any emotion. A flicker of recognition ran through Hendrick's mind.
"You must be Stephen Hendrick," said the Oriental man pleasantly.
The man's deep, resonant voice clicked in Hendrick's memory amid a swirl of shadows and harsh light. This was the man who had boarded his boat many months before in the Taiwan Strait looking for the treasure from the Awa Maru.
The Japanese man's face turned to stone under the scarf material. "You are Hendrick, are you not?"
Hendrick pressed his lips together and said nothing. There was movement behind him as someone else came up to the doorway. Another person stepped into view and pointed a handgun at Hendrick.
"Oh yeah, that's Hendrick all right," said Maggie Ramsey.
CHAPTER 26
Boats and Bullets
Hendrick stared coldly at Maggie as she slowly pointed her weapon at each of them in turn.
"I don't believe this. Not again," said Hendrick through grinding teeth. "Is it loaded this time?"
"Yes," she replied sweetly. "Want a demonstration?"
"No, no," answered Hendrick. "This time I believe you."
"You can really pick 'em," muttered Malik to Hendrick. He gave Malik a sick look over his shoulder.
Hendrick eyed her Japanese companion. "You boarded my boat in the Taiwan Strait last year and threw a lot of threats around." He looked back at Maggie. "You keep some real shitty company."
"I have my reasons, Hendrick," she said. "Meet Masaya Konaka."
"I told you I would wait until you had recovered the treasure from the Awa Maru then take it from you," replied Konaka.
"How did you know where to find me?" Hendrick asked Konaka and then glared at Maggie.
"Don't look at me. I didn't tell him," said Maggie in a miffed voice. "I just wanted to tag along to see you get put down a notch or two."
Konaka remained mute. Hendrick raised his eyebrows at Maggie's incongruous remark, then gave Konaka an annoyed look.
"Spies all over, right?" he asked.
Konaka seemed amused. "Just a lucky guess."
Hendrick wondered how he could have been so wrong about Maggie. She was one surprise after another. She gave him a coy look.
He turned back to Konaka. "What's with the scarf over your face? Are you that ugly?"
Konaka refused to react to Hendrick's provocation, the terrorist's eyes growing harder and more devoid of emotion than before.
"What's in the case?" Maggie asked quickly to blunt the confrontation.
Hendrick dropped the case on the deck with an ear shattering crash, splitting a corner seam. They could see the gleaming contents through the crack. Maggie bent down and stared at the sparkling stones in amazement.
"My God, it's diamonds!" she exclaimed. "You really did it, Hendrick!"
Konaka bent over and took several quick glances at the ruptured metal drawer. He straightened, his eyes reflecting satisfaction.
"I knew that you would come through for me, Hendrick," said Konaka. "Now very carefully reach down and take out the knife you have strapped to your leg and throw it over there." He indicated the base of the cabin wall. Hendrick slowly complied, being careful not to make any sudden moves. "All right, now that the amenities are over, you and your two friends will bring over the rest of the cases and stack them up on the deck of my boat which is on the other side of that hill," said Konaka, pointing into the distance.
Hendrick gauged the distance between Konaka and himself and knew he would never get to the austere Japanese in time. He would die halfway there. Movement caught his eye. Two more men walked up behind Konaka, their assault rifles pointed at Hendrick and the others.
Hendrick, Malik, Loh, and Wong saw no other course but to comply. They lugged the cases two at a time from Wong's boat over the hill into the next inlet where Konaka's boat was tied up. Konaka and his thugs were near them every second but far enough away to prevent any daring moves by Hendrick or the others.
Two trips were all that was needed to transfer the twelve drawers filled with precious stones to Konaka's boat. When they had finished, the four captives, filled with dread, stood on the shore next to Konaka's boat.
"What happens now?" asked Hendrick.
Konaka lifted his weapon higher and pointed it directly at Hendrick. "Now I'm going to fulfill my promise."
"Wait a minute, Konaka," said Maggie with determination in her voice. "I saw him first." Konaka looked at Maggie questioningly. "He raped me, and now it's my turn."
Hendrick did his best not to react to Maggie's blatant lie, but surprise crept across his face. Konaka stared at her, then the hard lines around his eyes took on an amused glint.
"We'll march them back and tie them up," said Konaka. "Then you can do anything you want with them."
Maggie nodded grimly and motioned with her weapon for the captives to get moving. Hendrick turned and slowly trotted up the hill toward the other inlet and Loh's boat, but for the first time he had hope. What did Maggie have in mind?
They walked back down the other side of the hill under the watchful eye of Konaka and his handgun, which at times looked like a hand-held cannon. Hendrick constantly looked for a chance to escape, but Konaka and his men gave him none. He glanced at Malik who shrugged slightly. They boarded Loh's boat, and Konaka ordered his men to tie Hendrick and the others up.
Konaka gave his men a short order. Hendrick saw Maggie give her face an uncomfortable twist. Seconds later, they heard the sounds of wood splitting under the impact of an ax.
"Act quickly," said Konaka. "This boat will sink in a few minutes."
"I only need two minutes with this guy," she replied. "Why don't you get the boat ready, and I'll catch up to you."
Konaka grunted assent and was gone. Maggie knelt next to Hendrick and pulled her switchblade from an ankle scabbard. She immediately went to work on his ropes. His hands came free, then he took the knife from her and cut his legs free. Hendrick ran over and quickly freed Malik, Loh, and Wong. Loh jumped to his feet and yelled something to Wong who immediately ran over to his own boat.
"We'll patch the hole in the hull," said Loh.
"Good. And we'll get after Konaka and get the diamonds back," said Hendrick. He looked at Maggie. "I was beginning to wonder which side you were on."
"He came to me and wanted some information about you," replied Maggie. "He knew you were up to something, maybe recovering more of the treasure. Apparently he had you under constant surveillance, and picked up on your trip out here. I convinced him that I should tag along. It's a good thing that I did."
Hendrick picked up Maggie's gun off the deck where she had laid it and looked it over. "All right, let's go get our diamonds back."
"Uh ... Steve," said Maggie timidly. "There's something I should tell you."
Hendrick looked at her questioningly, then he realized what she wanted to tell him. He released the clip, yanked it out, and looked at the end where the bullets should have been.
"I thought you said it was loaded," he said in frustration.
"I lied," she said.
"All right, give me the damn bullets. I'll load it myself," he replied with his patience nearly gone.
"What bullets?" she asked and appeared to be genuinely perplexed.
"You know. The little round things that make the gun go bang, bang," he said in exasperation.
"I, uh, don't have any," she said, expecting a blast of anger from him.
"You don't have any? What the hell good is a gun without bullets?" he shouted.
"It worked on you, didn't it?" she said and sniffed.
"If you will recall, it did not work on me," he said. "Not in the hotel room and not now. I was deterred by Konaka's gun. I'll bet his was loaded!" Hendrick shook his head. "You brought a gun and didn't bring any bullets?"
"I didn't want to hurt anyone," she replied in a quiet voice. "Especially you."
Hendrick shoved the empty weapon into his belt and waved Maggie along. "Come on," he said in a resigned tone. "Maybe we can throw rocks at him."
Maggie grinned at him and joined up with him and Malik as they ran up the hill to get to the inlet where Konaka's boat was anchored. Hendrick glanced at her from time to time, and she grinned madly at him the entire way. He finally shook his head and started to laugh. She was a real character.
They reached the top of the hill and were afforded a view of the inlet. Hendrick stopped and stared at the water below. Konaka was gone. He looked around quickly and spotted Konaka's boat a few miles off, speeding toward the open sea.
"That bum!" shouted Maggie. "He stood me up!"
"Stood you up?" said Malik. "He's got the damn diamonds!" Hendrick just winced.
They both turned and ran for Loh's boat. When they returned, they found Loh on the aft deck setting up a bilge pump with its discharge pipe extending over the side. Hendrick quickly told Loh about Konaka's escape, and they immediately prepared to give chase. Loh and Wong had gotten the leak just about stopped, and the bilge pump would keep the hold from filling up with water.
Malik cast off the lines and jumped back aboard, while Loh gunned the engines. He expertly wound his way around the narrow waters and soon they were in the open sea. Loh shoved the throttles wide open and his craft leaped ahead. Loh centered his bow on Konaka's distant boat and turned to Hendrick.
"I have some weapons in a storage locker below," shouted Loh over the engine noise. He fished in his pocket, producing a key, which he gave to Hendrick.
"Bullets too?" asked Hendrick facetiously.
Loh nodded, but he was clearly puzzled.
Hendrick turned to Maggie. "He has bullets." He pointed at Loh. Maggie rolled her eyes around and gave him a nobody's-perfect look.
Hendrick went down below with Maggie and Malik following him closely, and the three of them opened Loh's storage locker. Hendrick's eyes immediately locked onto the most capable weapons in Loh's small arsenal, three AK47 assault rifles. Hendrick picked up one assault rifle with Malik grabbing the others. They both slung clip belts over their shoulders. Maggie took a handgun, a bolt-action rifle, and several boxes of ammunition. Together they ran back up on deck.
Loh's boat was marginally faster than Konaka's craft, and Hendrick saw that it would take some time before they caught up to Konaka. He tried to relax but couldn't, knowing that in the near future they would be in a fight with Konaka and his men. Malik handed an AK47 to Loh who gave up the wheel to Wong, and they all quickly loaded their weapons. He glanced at Maggie who quickly and familiarly loaded the handguns and the rifle.
"So you do know what to do with bullets when you have them," said Hendrick with a chuckle.
"Watch it, Hendrick. These guns really are loaded this time," said Maggie, a smile tugging at her mouth. Hendrick smiled back.
"What kind of weapons does Konaka have?" asked Malik after a while.
"Nine millimeter automatic and the assault rifles were the only thing I saw, but he could have more hidden away," replied Maggie.
Konaka's boat abruptly changed course and Wong followed suit, causing the boat to roll from upright to a firm port list. An object rolled out from underneath a bench and hit Maggie's foot. She reached down and picked up the cylinder.
"What's this?" she asked.
Hendrick gently took it from her hands. "Probably nothing."
"What's that? Russian letters?" She looked over the tube as Hendrick slid it out of her grip. "What does it say? You know Russian."
"I don't know. I haven't really looked at it," replied Hendrick. He took the cylinder and slipped it into his belt bag. He was still in his wet suit from his dive earlier in the day.
The day, which had been murky gray from the constant cloud cover, was now rapidly turning to night.
"He's heading almost due north," said Loh over his shoulder as he stood near Wong.
"North," mumbled Hendrick, his face falling.
Maggie looked at him in surprise. "What's up north?"
Hendrick stared straight ahead and Joe Malik just shook his head.
"There's Tung-yin Tao, an island about thirty miles off the coast of China," replied Loh. "Maybe he's headed there."
Maggie stared at Hendrick. All his previous bravado was gone.
"There's something else," she said to Hendrick. "Isn't there?"
Hendrick gave her an agonized look but said nothing.
"The Han Gao is there, a few miles from Tung-yin Tao," whispered Malik.
Maggie suddenly understood. "Your brother." Her voice was sympathetic.
Hendrick turned away. Maggie realized that Hendrick was reliving the experience and facing the fear again. She stood next to him and squeezed his arm. He put a hand over hers and stared ahead.
The face flew through his mind once again. He had turned it into a nightmare image of horror and death. Probably not at all what the actual man looks like, he thought grimly. Would I even recognize him if I were face to face with him? He shook his head imperceptibly. Another murderer gone unpunished.
Loh finally caught up to their fleeing adversary when the day turned into deep twilight. Hendrick looked Konaka's boat over for some method of slowing him down. The engines were inboard and didn't present a ready target. He took the AK47 and aimed at the boat's cabin. He squeezed off half a clip's worth, shattering some Plexiglas windows and sending some pieces of wood flying into the air. Konaka changed course abruptly but continued on unabated. Wong changed course to keep with him. Konaka's men returned fire, sending slugs into the bridge bulkheads.
Hendrick turned to his companions. "Fire for the water line. He'll slow down as he takes on water."
Malik, Loh, and Maggie nodded, and all four of them began to fire at the fleeing craft where the starboard side met the water. They fired for several minutes with Loh, Malik, and Hendrick putting clip after clip into the side of the boat and Maggie keeping up a steady rate of fire from the bolt-action rifle. Konaka's men returned fire in fitful bursts. Loh caught one of Konaka's men with a burst and the wounded man slumped to the deck.
Konaka's boat began to slow down as the gunfire began to take effect. Hendrick could imagine the hold of his boat awash with seawater.
Konaka's boat suddenly went dead in the water, and Hendrick knew they had him.
"Pull alongside!" he yelled to Loh. "I'm going on board." Maggie gave him a quick look of concern and opened her mouth to say something, but then she decided against it.
"Damn it, Steve!" shouted Malik.
"You just keep their heads down," he shouted back. Malik shook his head with real concern.
Hendrick thoroughly looked the boat over as Loh cautiously pulled near it. When the two boats were ten feet apart, Hendrick tensed his body to get ready to jump, but Maggie grabbed his arm and turned him around. He gave her a surprised look.
"Come back to me, Steve," she said in a whisper and kissed him in an anxious, desperate manner.
He pulled her close with one arm and kissed her back passionately. After pulling his face away from hers, he looked her in the eye. "I'll be a helluva lot richer when I come back." He turned away and jumped the few feet left between the two craft. Maggie watched him disappear into the gloom, a feeling of dread rising within her.
"I don't care about the money," she whispered to no one.
When he was in midair, Hendrick saw something fly outward toward Loh's boat from the cabin of Konaka's boat. Hendrick hit the aft deck and immediately crouched down brandishing his assault rifle out in front of him. He heard something metallic hit one of the metal plates, which Loh had attached to his boat to avoid the Chinese radar, and then heard a splash as the object fell into the water.
Seconds later there was an underwater explosion and a resulting geyser of water, which sent spray over the two boats. Grenade! thought Hendrick. I have to get to him fast before he blows up Loh's boat. He thought he was up against only two men.
He boldly made his way toward the cabin as he heard Loh's engines rev up to get away from Konaka's vessel. Hendrick got to the cabin's aft bulkhead and eyed the ladder that led up to the bridge on the second level. He half expected Konaka to peer over the edge, then send a volley of gunfire in his direction. He looked around for signs of Konaka's companions, seeing only one body near the stern of the boat. There were no signs of either Konaka or his other man. He gritted his teeth and climbed the ladder.
Hendrick peered over the top of the ladder toward the bridge trying to locate Konaka, but saw no movement anywhere. He climbed the last few rungs of the ladder and leaped onto the deck running for the bridge. He brought his assault rifle up in front of him and opened fire, sending a brutal stream of lead across the bridge windows. The remaining few that weren't shattered were destroyed in an instant. Hendrick got to the bulkhead of the upper cabin and peered through the broken windows. Nothing moved inside the bridge. Hendrick slid over to the door and cautiously opened it. He walked inside and surveyed the area. There was no one.
A small, round object arched through the air and sailed unimpeded through the now-open windows. Hendrick knew immediately what it was and leaped through the doorway to the aft upper deck. The grenade went off a split second after he hit the deck, sending shrapnel into the sides of the cabin and blowing the door off its hinges to ultimately land on Hendrick's back.
After the debris from the explosion stopped raining down on him, Hendrick got to his feet and tried to work his way forward on the starboard side but was stopped by the starboard bridge bulkhead which was leaning at a precarious angle across the starboard walkway. He heard Malik open fire, sending bursts of lead toward the bow section. Hendrick quickly ran over to the port side and crawled until he could view the forward deck. He immediately spotted a shadowy figure hiding behind a storage container, fitfully returning Malik's gunfire. Hendrick aimed his weapon and opened fire.
Konaka quickly got behind the container as soon as Hendrick's bullets whistled by him, and then began to return fire as Hendrick's weapon fell empty. Hendrick wondered where the second man was. He reached for another clip, finding to his horror that he had none left. Konaka's fire began to land uncomfortably close by. Malik fired a burst but it went wide of the mark. Hendrick carefully left his AK47 with the barrel exposed to Konaka's view and swiftly slid backwards to get away from the area. He leaped to his feet and ran back for the aft ladder. After sliding down the ladder, he quickly entered the lower cabin and ran right into Konaka's man who bounced backwards a step then quickly recovered.
The man shouted something and started to bring his assault rifle up to bear. Hendrick closed with his enemy, grabbing the rifle barrel, keeping it pointed away from him. The man squeezed the trigger, sending a burst into the cabin overhead, showering them with pieces of wood. Hendrick swung the rifle barrel around in an arc, breaking the man's grip on the weapon. They both struggled for control of the rifle but only sent it skittering away from them.
Hendrick's opponent was smaller, but was strong and wiry. Hendrick finally managed to push him to the deck, freeing his hands for a moment. He pulled the metal cylinder out of his belt bag and swung it at Konaka's follower who was struggling to his feet. The blow sent the man reeling. Hendrick was on him immediately, sending the metal tube crashing down on his head again and again.
The man suddenly stopped moving, and Hendrick backed off immediately worried about Konaka's whereabouts. He jammed the cylinder back into the bag and tried to get his breathing back to normal. He glanced at his assailant and saw blood seeping from his head as he lay prostrate on the deck. Hendrick went to a forward window and peered through it to the forward deck.
He could see Konaka behind the container studying the upper deck and the exposed part of Hendrick's assault rifle. Gasoline fumes filled the air in the cabin, and Hendrick noticed an open hatch leading to the engine room. Probably hit a fuel line, he thought. That's what stopped him. It wasn't the holes in the hull from our gunfire as I had thought.
Hendrick looked around quickly for any kind of a weapon, spotting scuba gear stacked up near the stern. No weapon there, he thought. He continued searching and finally located the automatic weapon dropped by Konaka's follower. He checked the clip and saw with mounting panic that it was empty. He scrambled around the deck looking for a full clip but found none. He reached down and touched his ankle where his diving knife should have been, but he hadn't taken the time to replace it. He cursed under his breath, then heard a slight noise on the starboard side. He peered out the windows and caught a glimpse of Konaka moving toward the cabin. He pressed his back against the bulkhead next to the starboard door and breathlessly waited for Konaka to enter.
Maggie stared into the rapidly thickening darkness and wondered anxiously what was happening to Hendrick. The explosion on the bridge had panicked her as she thought of how Steve may have been injured by the blast. Loh's boat rolled up and over the top of a wave, but now it was sluggish compared to moments before. Loh came up from below in a rush and stopped at her side.
"We're sinking, and we can't stop it," he said in an out-of-breath voice. "The grenade blew open the patch we had put in the hull. We'll go under in a few minutes." He held up a life jacket. "You had better put this on. Wong is trying to radio for help."
Maggie gratefully took the life jacket and slipped it on. She suddenly shivered in the deepening gloom as she gazed in the direction of Konaka's boat. The small fire created by the blast in the upper cabin had gone out, leaving only a black shadow in the water. Malik was on the bow deck squinting into the gloom for a clear shot.
"Oh God, let him come back to me," she murmured under her breath.
Maggie jumped as a loud gunshot split the night air.
Hendrick held on to Konaka's wrist with all his strength as they struggled and slammed around the lower cabin. Hendrick had gone for Konaka's weapon, all but ignoring his opponent's body. He had gotten both hands on his weapon, but Konaka had squeezed off a shot in an effort to shake him loose.
Hendrick swung Konaka's arm around violently from right to left in a swift motion to dislodge the weapon from his hand. The action was to no avail as Konaka tightened his grip on the gun, then reached up with his free hand to grab at Hendrick's face.
Hendrick, who was heavier than Konaka ran them both toward the cabin wall with Konaka's gun hand out in front of them. They smashed into the bulkhead bending Konaka's wrist around and loosening his grip on the weapon. Konaka grunted with pain, then grabbed Hendrick's hair and pulled it back as hard as he could. Hendrick's head snapped backward as if he were hit by a powerful fist.
Konaka yanked on Hendrick's hair with all his strength and kept up the pressure, spinning them both around in a circle. Hendrick let go of Konaka's wrist with one hand and grabbed at the gun, knocking it from Konaka's grasp to land on the floor in darkness. Konaka released Hendrick's hair and immediately grabbed his neck and squeezed with all his strength to crush his windpipe. Hendrick gagged then let go of Konaka's wrist and spun around, knocking Konaka's hand away from his throat.
Hendrick charged into Konaka, backing him up and spreading apart his arms. Hendrick reached back and punched Konaka full in the face, sending the Japanese terrorist sprawling backwards on the deck. Hendrick staggered forward, trying to follow up his advantage but bent over double as he tried to get some air through his injured throat.
Konaka got to his feet and lashed out with a kick aimed at Hendrick's face but missed and struck his chest throwing him backward to trip and fall heavily to the deck with his body half-in and half-out of the open hatch leading to the engine room. Hendrick massaged his throat and got breathing again then got up on all fours for another attack on his opponent. He looked toward the doorway leading to the aft deck, his eyes searching for Konaka's dark outline among the shadows in the cabin.
Konaka wasn't in the cabin. A small object came flying through the partly open doorway bounding off the deck and landing at Hendrick's feet. He knew that he had only a few seconds to get rid of the hand grenade, less if Konaka had delayed throwing it after pulling the pin.
In a panic Hendrick swung around to pick up the grenade and accidentally kicked it in his haste. The grenade skittered along the deck and bounced off the hatch edge. It popped a few inches into the air and fell through the hatch to the engine room below.
Maggie strained her eyes in the darkness to make out any movement on Konaka's boat but could only see a dim outline of the craft as it bounced on the waves. She heard someone yell with pain, but then there was nothing. Maggie bit her lip with anxiety. What was happening? Was Steve all right?
In a split second, the gloom of night was replaced by an intense ball of light. The fireball expanded, then was driven upward by the air returning from its sudden displacement by the blast. Maggie ducked and winced as debris from the conflagration flew at Loh's boat and slammed into its side.
She peered over the gunwale at the falling pieces of what used to be Konaka's boat, her mind refusing to comprehend what had probably happened to Steve Hendrick. Loh's boat began to tilt at a strange angle, and she vaguely heard Loh shouting something in Chinese to Wong, but she didn't bother to figure it out. Water rushed in around her ankles, sucking the boat down below the surface. She ignored that she only had seconds before she was totally in the water. Her eyes were riveted on the burning wreck, searching desperately for movement, any hint of a survivor. She saw none.
The remains of the boat burned brightly for a brief period of time, then the sea consumed the wreck, leaving only a few pieces of floating debris.
CHAPTER 27
Konaka's Island
The water above turned pitch black as the fire from Konaka's boat died out. Hendrick held his breath as long as he could, then moved swiftly to the surface. He broke out into the air and inhaled with relief. The stern of Konaka's boat floated just ten feet away and Hendrick immediately swam for it. His buttocks hurt from what he thought to be a part of the boat hitting him during the explosion. He reached the stern and hung on the side, his eyes trying to penetrate the gloom to locate Loh's boat. It was nowhere to be seen.
Hendrick climbed cautiously on the bobbing stern section of the boat, and settled gingerly on the slippery wood. Hopefully Konaka is dead, he thought grimly. But the diamonds are lost, too. An idea came to mind, and he fumbled around his scuba harness until he found his GPS receiver. Moments later he had his location stored in the instrument. He decided he would come back later for a salvage attempt.
He felt around in the darkness for anything useful, fervently wishing for a flashlight or a flare gun. His hands fell on the cold metal of an air tank. On one end were a regulator and a mouthpiece. He remembered seeing scuba equipment near the stern during the battle on the boat. He turned on the regulator and put the mouthpiece between his teeth. Air flowed coldly but clearly into his lungs.
Great, now I'm set when the stern section sinks, he thought. Where was Maggie? And Joe and the others? He strained his eyes to make out anything on the water. A dark form sat low in the water about thirty yards away. A boat? He was about to shout out when he heard a voice, a very deep voice, a voice that he would never forget.
Konaka was a short distance away.
The waters of the East China Sea rushed up around Maggie, taking her breath away. She ignored the chilly water as it penetrated her clothes with one thought on her mind.
Steve! Where are you?
The life jacket billowed around her, settling under her armpits, keeping her face an inch from the water. The sea splashed up around her face, sending some water into her nose. She rapidly blew it out and began to instinctively tread water.
Maggie began swimming in the direction Konaka's boat had been, started to shout Hendrick's name, but a wave drove seawater into her mouth, causing her to choke. She splashed about for several minutes as her feelings plummeted into despair. Steve Hendrick, to her seemingly invincible, was nowhere to be found.
Hendrick slowly broke the surface, the idea of killing Konaka, and stealing his boat uppermost on his mind. He closed within ten yards and could see the tall, thin form of Konaka silhouetted against the barely lighter horizon. Suddenly a second head rose above the edge of the boat, and he could clearly see the distinctive outline of an AK47. Konaka had an extra man with him, not just the two as they had thought.
The chances were slim that he could take both of them quickly enough without getting shot. He turned, looking in the opposite direction for the others but saw only the deepening night. An outboard motor sputtered and died. Konaka was trying to start the motor and leave the area. Hendrick dove down ten feet, leveled off and swam up under Konaka's rubber boat. The blades of the outboard motor suddenly came to life a few feet away. Hendrick grabbed a strap sewn to the underside of the boat and hung on as the small craft puttered off to the north.
The steady thrum of an oar in the water floated to Maggie. Suddenly Malik, Loh, and Wong were next to her pulling her into their life raft.
"We have to find Steve!" she shouted at them. She saw no movement in the darkness. "What's the matter with you people? Start searching!"
Malik's quiet voice cut through the night and her spirit as well. "We'll never find him at night," he said slowly. The implication was clear. Malik thought he was dead.
Maggie stared at their shadows for a moment then turned her head away. She quietly wept.
Konaka's zodiac boat chugged along steadily through the fog that had developed quickly after the sun went down. Hendrick, hanging onto the short strap underneath them, was beginning to tire. He estimated that he had been under for about an hour and wondered how much air was left in the tanks. Where was Konaka going? To Tung-yin Tao? And who would be there to greet him?
The outboard motor slowed, ran for another ten minutes, then stopped. Hendrick realized that the boat, which was small and light, might be quickly lifted out of the water. He let go of the strap, taking a chance that they had reached their destination, and began to swim away from the boat. Feet slammed into the water just inches from him, and he suddenly realized that he was in very shallow water, only three feet deep. Hendrick cautiously groped along, trying to put distance between him and his two enemies. He got a hundred yards down the coast, then risked raising his head to look up.
The rubber boat was up on shore and Konaka and his man were nowhere to be seen.
They seemed to drift for hours, fog closing around them, wrapping them in its peculiar mist blanket, muffling the sound of the waves as it slapped against the rubber sides of the raft. Maggie was silent in her grief.
Loh mumbled something in Chinese to Wong then he translated for Malik and Maggie's benefit although she understood the language fairly well. "Lighthouse," he said, pointing into the distance.
She wiped her face and gazed at the pulsing light diffused by the fog.
"Tung-yin Tao," said Wong quietly.
Maggie bit her lip. This was the island near where Steve's brother was murdered. First Steve's brother, then Steve himself, she thought in devastation.
Loh and Wong got their oars out and began paddling toward the mysterious island in the distance. After an hour they reached its rocky shore, the beam from the lighthouse cutting a path through the night above them. A foghorn intermittently split the night's quiet with a booming sound. They jumped out of the raft and pulled it up on the beach on the other side of a line of rocks.
"This island is controlled by the communists," said Loh in a breathless tone. "If they find us here, we'll wind up in one of their prisons for twenty years."
Maggie took a deep breath, the pain of Hendrick's loss still clutching at her insides. She glanced at Joe Malik and saw that he grieved for Hendrick as well. Her heart went out to him. He had been Hendrick's friend longer than she had known him. She looked up the steep slope toward the white buildings above the lighthouse.
"Weather station," said Loh as he followed her gaze. "It's not them that I worry about." He turned to Malik and Maggie, his face a mask of concern in the stray glow from the lighthouse. He pulled a small flashlight out of his pocket, and shielding it with his body sketched the outline of the island on the ground. There were two islands. The one they were on was rectangular with small outcroppings on its northeastern and southwestern corners. There was another, smaller one to the northwest shaped like a tooth, roots and all. Loh pointed between the islands. He spoke to Wong in Chinese, then translated for the others.
"There's a small anchorage on the other side of the island called Bertha Cove," he whispered. "We might be able to steal a boat."
Maggie numbly fell in behind the three men as they started off down the shoreline. The night's chill was intensified by her soaked clothes. Soon she was shivering.
An hour later, they cautiously approached a source of light diffused into a soft glow by the thickening fog. Loh, Wong, and Malik got on their hands and knees to crawl through the scrubby brush. They crawled up a small rise and peered through the undergrowth. Maggie reluctantly followed, pressing her teeth together to keep them from chattering.
The ground sloped downward toward the northern shore of the island. At the edge of the water, the land flattened and was covered with asphalt. A large building was at one edge of the pavement, one entire side open, revealing the tail of a large helicopter.
"Strange. No markings on the buildings or the helicopter," Malik said in an undertone. "I expected a red star, or something like that." He looked around cautiously. "Let's get to the cove before they spot us."
They retraced their steps down the slope back to the water's edge. Suddenly a bright light pierced the night fog and blinded the three of them. They froze for a moment then dropped to the ground. A gun went off only feet from Maggie. The light winked out just as Maggie realized that Wong had fired at the light. A hand grabbed her arm and immediately pulled her in the opposite direction from where the light had been.
Hendrick looked over the cove with its boats, freighter, and a seaplane, thinking that there was enough transportation around when he wanted to leave the island. A quick survey of the island gave him an idea of the number of buildings. This must be Konaka's headquarters, he concluded. He resolved to find out what Konaka was up to.
A gunshot was heard in the distance. Hendrick wondered at its origin and thought it strange that Konaka's men would be having target practice on a foggy night.
He followed the southern coast, heading toward a large building at the base of the hill that formed most of the island. As he drew closer he saw the blood red Japanese characters that he had first seen five years ago. What was the significance of the word truth written in blood?
He noted that a fence with barbed wire circled the building. Guards were posted at each entrance into the compound, but he could easily see that there were long stretches of badly illuminated fence between the guard shacks. Hendrick examined the fence for a blind spot. He wondered what Konaka had in the building that he had to guard day and night.
They raced through the night, stumbling on loose rocks, their legs lashed by the branches of the undergrowth that grew on the island. They ran until they were gasping in the humid air. The excited voices of their pursuers faded as they lost track of the desperate group in the dark. A dim light appeared in the distance.
"The cove," said Malik breathlessly. They approached cautiously, swinging up the slope to get a good view of the area before trying to steal one of the small boats tied to the pier. Maggie could see the bow of a medium sized freighter at anchor in the mouth of the cove, and floating alone was a small seaplane, a dim light illuminating the underside of the starboard wing. She looked the pier over and the assortment of small boats tied to it. Two guards stood at opposite ends of the pier unmoving.
"Japanese," said Loh.
"What are Japanese doing on an island controlled by Red China?" asked Maggie.
"Konaka's base," said Malik. "I'd lay odds on it."
"Base for what?" asked Maggie. Malik shrugged.
Loh and Wong launched into Chinese with Maggie following most of it. She marveled at the courageousness of their plan to steal a boat. Loh translated. Their plan basically came down to distracting the guards then swimming up to one of the boats and stealing it.
"Oh man," muttered Malik and gave a skeptical look.
Loh studied him for a moment then asked, "Any better ideas?"
Malik shook his head in frustration.
Loh turned to Wong. "Go," he said.
Wong stood and walked casually down the slope toward the pier. He quickly drew the attention of the guards who both walked over to confront the stranger. Loh waved Maggie and Malik forward, and they quickly descended the slope to the edge of the water well away from the pier. They silently entered the water, depriving Maggie of what little warmth she had built up in her still wet clothes.
Loh swam strongly with Maggie and Malik in his wake, the light from the single bulb on a pole at the end of the pier casting a yellow glow over the water. Loh swam straight for the nearest boat and climbed immediately aboard with his handgun drawn. Maggie followed a few feet behind, Malik glancing anxiously behind them for any sign that the guards had detected them. Loh went to the starboard side and looked down the pier with Maggie peering over his shoulder. Wong was nowhere to be seen, and there was only one guard in view. Had Wong taken out the other guard? Maggie asked herself.
Maggie heard Malik gasp along with quick movement behind her. She whirled about, her hand reaching inside her jacket for the gun she had jammed there seemingly ages ago. A bright light went on, blinding her. She knew it was too late.
Hendrick ran along in a crouch straight at the midpoint in the fence between two guard shacks. He huddled next to the fence, listening for any signs that he had tripped an alarm. The night was silent, the lights at opposite ends of the building softened into a blur by the increasing fog. Close examination of the fence gave no indication that it was electrified. There were no isolators between the fence wire and the supporting poles, and scrub grass had grown up into the fence itself. He looked for motion detectors but found none.
Hendrick pulled up the bottom of the fence and shimmied under it. He was up in a flash and ran the twenty feet to the side of the building. A window was nearby, and Hendrick forced it open with the slightest of squeaks. In seconds he was inside.
The interior of the building was dimly lit, revealing row after row of wooden and metal boxes. He slid along the rows, getting near enough to an overhead light to read what was on the side of the boxes. Many were in either Chinese or Japanese, but some were in English.
His jaw went slack as he read what was on the box. M16A2 M203 Colt, USA. M16s, he thought, with a 40 mm grenade launcher attached to it. Other boxes contained grenades, shotguns, ammunition, even flamethrowers. He read on with increasing amazement until one box puzzled him. It read, SMAW - 83 mm and HEDP HEAA. He forced the box open after several minutes of concerted effort.
The box contained tubular weapons that looked like the World War II bazookas seen in old war movies. Another row of boxes held satchel charges containing C4, the powerful explosive, hundreds of them with electronic timers. Hendrick looked around him at the thousands of boxes in the warehouse. Enough weaponry was in view to start a war, and not a small one at that.
This is Konaka's ammo dump, he thought with amazement. This is the organization which stole my diamonds, has vowed to kill me and my friends, and has already killed my brother. He felt excitement at his imminent revenge.
He picked up several satchel charges and distributed them around the warehouse, placing them in with grenades, rockets and other satchel charges, setting their timers to detonate in two hours. He slung an M16 over his shoulder along with grenades and a bag of clips, and grabbed a SMAW with two rockets. Hendrick hung four satchel charges to his scuba harness and wiggled his way out the window he had entered.
The exit through the fence proved to be no problem. He was free, walking through the fog wondering where else he could set charges. There were fog-diffused lights in the distance as he walked to the northeast. He approached the lights slowly, on guard for any sentries.
More buildings came into view, and Hendrick concluded that these four buildings were the barracks for Konaka's soldiers. There were no fences around these buildings and only one guardhouse in front of the complex. Two roving security teams of three guards each marched around the buildings with only five minutes between teams. Approaching the outside walls of the buildings wouldn't be a problem, but staying there long enough to set charges would be.
Hendrick decided to take a different approach and looked for the exits to the buildings and the paths the soldiers would take as they left when responding to an emergency. He knew they would have an emergency to respond to in less than two hours. The pathways were easy to see; they were raised wooden walks extending from double doors in the front of each of the buildings. The walkways ran in various directions away from the barracks, one to a fog-shrouded motor pool, another to what looked like a surface to air missile launcher covered with canvas.
He flipped one of the satchel charges over and examined the detonator. Along with a timer, it also had a trip wire, which unrolled from a spool in the interior of the device.
An hour later, he was finished with his booby traps, one near enough to the motor pool so that when tripped, it would detonate full gasoline drums nearby. A second would ignite the missiles for the SAM launcher, and the other two were on delayed trip along the pathways to take out not the first wave of responding soldiers, but the second.
Hendrick looked over the quiet scene then pushed the light button on his watch. Less than an hour to go. He hefted the M16 and the SMAW.
Now let's find Konaka, he thought grimly, revenge filling his mind.
"Well, we meet again," said a deep resonant voice in English.
Maggie, Malik, Loh, and Wong looked up from their position on their knees. They had been dragged back up the eastern hill of the island to one of the buildings above the lighthouse. They could hear a diesel generator exhaust throbbing in the distance. The windows of the building were periodically lit up by the rotating beam from the lighthouse. The rooms in the building were spartan, seemingly in concert with Konaka's austerity. They were being held in the security office. Maggie had read the Japanese characters on the door when they were brought in. A few desks, a bulletin board, a weapons' cabinet and that was all.
"Konaka," muttered Maggie with disgust.
"Yes, my dear Miss Ramsey," replied Konaka with satisfaction. He looked at Wong with a wrinkled brow, the only visible expression above the silk scarf covering his face. Konaka's voice seemed to emanate from behind the scarf without the slightest movement by him. "This man is a mystery. I do not know who he is, but I suspect that he is not important."
He turned to Loh. "And here we have Loh Yi-Song, presently retired, but when he was working, he was quite an important man in the Taiwanese government. Did he tell you he was head of the Japanese section of Taiwanese foreign intelligence?"
Surprise swept over Maggie. She glanced at Loh who wasn't denying Konaka's statement. Wong, on Maggie's other side, stared at the floor.
"No?" continued Konaka. "Now that we know all about Loh, let's turn to this skinny, little bastard. You're name is Joe Malik. And you're basically Hendrick's slave."
Malik rolled his eyes in disgust.
"Now, why not find out about Miss Ramsey?" Konaka's tone abruptly changed from being sickeningly condescending to brutally menacing. "Just who are you working for?"
Konaka's voice sent a chill through her, deepening the dread she already felt. Barring a miracle, I won't make it out of this, she thought with panic.
A radio crackled. Maggie heard that a patrol was chasing an intruder.
"Another one?" asked Konaka to one of his men. The man nodded, but Konaka seemed unperturbed, turning his attention back to his prisoners.
"On second thought, I do not really care who you are working for," said Konaka in a thoughtful tone. "People who intrude into my affairs invariably wind up dead. And I see no reason to delay the inevitable." He turned to his guards, speaking in English for the benefit of the prisoners. "Take them outside, and kill them all."
Maggie gasped in despair. The prospect of imminent death sent panic through her. There's no escape, she thought grimly.
Suddenly an explosion shook the building. The structure creaked and swayed but stayed whole. The overpressure blew bits of dust and grass through the open door. She crouched down, involuntarily giving voice to a half-formed thought.
"Hendrick!" she said.
Konaka shouted orders, and a few of the men guarding Maggie and the others ran out to find out what had happened. One came back seconds later and told Konaka that a building had been destroyed. Maggie could see flames reflected off the glass-covered bulletin board. Konaka straightened and composed himself.
"If it is Hendrick, then he won't have long to live," said Konaka.
The flames from the building lit up the hillside, allowing Hendrick to see Konaka's men stream from the second building. He quickly loaded another grenade into the launcher attached to his M16 and aimed it at the other building. His gaze was drawn to an open door. He shifted his aim, planning to fire the grenade through it. There were people in the office beyond. He suddenly recognized them with a start.
It was Maggie, Joe, Loh, and Wong! He gaped in shock at the sight of them in Konaka's hands. The Japanese terrorist had captured them somehow. Now he had a new problem - how to free them from Konaka's men.
He heard voices behind him. Time to go. Hendrick slipped the SMAW into a crack between the rocks to lighten his load, intending to come back for it later. He crawled to his right as the fire died down and the fog swirled in once again reducing his visibility to a few feet. The incline grew rapidly steeper until he lost his traction on the loose stones and began to slip. His speed increased quickly until he fell out of control over a small cliff landing on his side and losing his M16 and the bag of grenades in the dark. He groped about until a light went on blinding him.
Shouts in Japanese came from behind the light issuing gruff orders. Hendrick stayed still, his heart pounding, afraid to give them an excuse to open fire on him. Three men came up to him and began to beat him with the stocks of their rifles.
Konaka's guards dropped Hendrick on the floor near Maggie and the others.
"Hendrick!" Maggie said simultaneously in relief and in desperation.
Hendrick gave her a wry, lopsided grin through swollen lips. "I slipped." He looked at the glowering men around them. "It didn't take them long to grab me."
"Are you all right?" she asked as she looked over the lumps on his face.
"Yeah, but not for long," he replied.
"How did you escape Konaka's boat? Why aren't you dead?" asked Maggie.
"I grabbed some scuba gear and held onto a line from Konaka's liferaft. He sailed it right into the cove without knowing I was under it," said Hendrick.
Konaka entered the room in a rush and stood looking at his five prisoners. His expression ran from surprise to amusement. Hendrick got the feeling that he and his companions were considered playthings by Konaka.
"You seemed to have cheated death, haven't you?" said Konaka. "We will change that soon."
Konaka still had his customary silk scarf over his face, and Hendrick squinted at Konaka to make out his features.
Konaka eyed Hendrick, the lines around his eyes stretching tight. His gaze went to the oblong shape near Hendrick's waist. Curious, he ordered one of his men remove the short metal cylinder from Hendrick's belt bag. Hendrick stared at the cylinder as Konaka looked it over. He could just make out the Russian words embossed on the metal tube, which stated that this was a diplomatic message from the Soviet Union to the government of Japan. The Soviets had been allied with the United States and Britain against Germany. But Japan had been allied with Germany. What could the Soviet Union have had to say to the Japanese in April of 1945? And why put it in a metal tube?
Konaka brought it close to his face to study it, rubbing some of the mud off the cylinder. Hendrick saw that there was a screw-on cap on one end. The edge of the cap was melted, smearing the cap and the side of the cylinder together. Konaka scratched some corrosion away from the indentations in the melted metal, and a pattern in the metal suddenly became clear. Someone had made a hammer and sickle in the molten metal using a form, just as letters were sealed years ago with a unique pattern pressed into soft sealing wax to show the letter's origin. If the sealing wax was unbroken, then the recipient of the letter knew no one else had read it. This pattern of the hammer and sickle, the symbols of the Soviet Union, was just such a seal. If anyone tried to unscrew the cap, the seal would inevitably break, and the Japanese, as recipients of this message, would know that someone had intercepted and had already read the message.
"From the Awa Maru, I presume," mused Konaka.
Hendrick decided to start talking to stall his eventual execution. "You have a pretty big operation here, Konaka. So what are you up to? Some sort of terrorism?"
Konaka slowly tore his eyes from the cylinder and looked at Hendrick with pure malice. "The world will discover my purpose soon enough."
"Why go after Hendrick's diamonds?" asked Maggie.
Konaka's eyes shifted to her. "Funding," he said simply.
"That's why you wanted to steal the treasure from me," said Hendrick.
"I did steal the treasure from you," mumbled Konaka, his attention again taken by the metal tube in his hands.
"Wrong. Chang got it, then the Chinese took it from him," replied Hendrick.
Konaka gave him an amused glance. "And I took it from the Chinese."
Hendrick winced at the thought of his hard-fought-over gold going into the hands of a maniac. "You need it to finance this operation. When the Chinese find out you're here, they'll make short work of you and this pitiful island."
"The Chinese have been taken care of," said Konaka, dismissing Hendrick's remarks.
"Enough bribes in the right places," said Maggie.
Konaka glanced at her, confirming her statement. He issued a short order to one of his men and gave him the cylinder. The man went away returning soon with a pipewrench. He proceeded to carefully unscrew the cap off the cylinder, breaking the watertight weld, then cautiously reached inside and removed two pieces of paper in remarkably good condition. He handed them to Konaka without looking at them.
Konaka studied them, dropping one paper to the floor. Hendrick bent over to read what looked to be a letter in Russian.
Hendrick gasped with surprise at the letter's contents. "It's signed by Josef Stalin."
"That's nice, Steve, but this was written over sixty years ago," muttered Malik. "Who cares what's in it but historians?"
Hendrick looked quickly at Konaka's granite-like eyes, which were modulated by the letter's unexpected contents. Konaka looked up and called one of his men, Ken-Ichi Murata. Konaka handed him the letter, which he could see was in Japanese. The man read it, his eyes bulging and his mouth flopping open in amazement.
Murata had a rapid-fire conversation with his leader. Hendrick studied Maggie's face as she listened intently to their conversation. He knew she was translating it in her mind. They could clearly see that the letter electrified both Konaka and Murata.
"What is it?" he asked in a low voice.
"Apparently it's a letter to the government of Japan with some sort of offer from the Soviet Union," she replied.
Hendrick nodded quickly. He had gotten the gist of the message from glancing at the letter still lying in front of him.
"Something called Hidden Sun," said Maggie in a whisper. "Murata is employed by the government and knows of a project called Hidden Sun."
Konaka turned his attention back to his prisoners. "Well, Hendrick, you have given me more than you will ever know. A treasure far greater than gold or diamonds."
"Hidden Sun?" asked Hendrick. "You know what Hidden Sun is?"
"You have given me Japan itself," said Konaka, ignoring the question. He regarded him closely. "This is the third time we've crossed paths. And this will be your last time."
"Last year in the Taiwan Strait. You dropped in uninvited," replied Hendrick sourly. "You were lucky that time. Five years ago you weren't so lucky. Remember the Han Gao? You lost five men there."
"Four, really," said Konaka. "I alone survived."
Hendrick was puzzled. "You survived?"
"Yes," said Konaka slowly. "After I cut your brother's throat."
The admission from Konaka sent a jolt through Hendrick. He relived the diving disaster in a surrealistic nightmare fashion. The face in his nightmares floated before him in the flickering light from the divers' lamps. The lines of flesh stretched tight roared through his mind. Hendrick squirmed to see the opposite side of Konaka's face. The Japanese terrorist obligingly turned his left side toward Hendrick, exposing the scar that ran down the side of his neck. Hendrick had inflicted the wound on him during the battle inside the Han Gao.
Hendrick gaped at him in shock. "It was you! You tried to kill us!" He leaped at the slim terrorist, succeeding in ripping the scarf from his face. Hendrick groped for Konaka's neck to squeeze the life out of him but was grabbed immediately by four of Konaka's men. They quickly pinned him to the floor.
There, in front of him, was the man who had murdered his brother, the face, which had invaded his nights for five years. He had dreamt of the day when he would face Frank's murderer, what he would say, how he would take revenge. Hendrick never imagined this situation.
Konaka gave Hendrick an amused look, issuing a hissing imitation of a laugh, which made the prisoners' stomachs turn. "I seem to be in the business of exterminating the Hendrick family." He gestured to his men, and they dragged Hendrick to his feet. Hendrick gave Konaka a look of pure hatred.
"Kill them all. Right now!" commanded Konaka to his men.
Konaka's men grabbed each of them and roughly dragged them out of the building. They marched them to the edge of a small ridge overlooking the lighthouse and forced them to their knees. One guard took up a position behind each of them with the rest covering them with automatic weapons.
Hendrick could see Maggie steal a glance at him, her face half lit by the residual light from the two buildings behind them. He knew they were waiting for him to make a break for it. He surreptitiously eyed his watch, counting down the time left.
"Hendrick -" Maggie began plaintively.
"Shh," he said, his mouth moving slowly, rhythmically.
Konaka's men yanked their arms behind them and quickly tied their wrists together. Maggie stared at Hendrick in silent desperation. The lighthouse beam swung around, briefly illuminating his face.
Hendrick looked Maggie in the eyes, his mouth silently moving, his face full of anticipation. His eyes grew wide open as the countdown went to zero.
"Get down!" shouted Hendrick and flopped forward onto the ground. Maggie stared at him in confusion.
A second later, the island was rocked by a huge explosion.
CHAPTER 28
Into the Night
The ground shook violently under them as the blast sent shock waves across the island. The foggy night was split by a huge fireball, which lit their surroundings as if it were daylight. Konaka's men were thrown to the ground by flying rocks and debris driven by the blast.
"Come on!" shouted Hendrick over the ear-splitting thunder of the explosion. Maggie opened her eyes a crack and saw Hendrick roll over the cliff. She peered fearfully over the precipice into the descending darkness, summoned her courage, and rolled her body into the rapidly returning night. She fell twenty feet into a clump of bushes, painfully banging her backside on a hidden rock.
She yelled with pain, seconds later feeling a hand clamp around her wrist. Hendrick pulled her roughly out of the way. Loh landed where Maggie had fallen and grunted with pain at the same rock. A second later Wong and Malik joined them, narrowly missing Loh's head. Hendrick quickly freed them from their bonds.
Maggie grabbed the front of Hendrick's shirt. "How -" she began but was cut off by another huge explosion, which again lit the sky and sent debris showering around them.
"Ammo dump, must be," said Loh in awe at the enormous force of the explosion.
"There was a lot of C4 on this island," explained Hendrick. "And there's a lot less now." To Malik he asked, "Are you ready?"
"Goddamn right I am," replied Malik with vehemence. "Weapons?"
"Stashed on the other side of the hill," said Hendrick. He turned to his Chinese friend. "Loh, take Maggie and run for the cove." They could barely hear him over the continuing roar of secondary explosions.
"Where are you going?" she asked nervously. The rapidly failing light of a previous detonation showed a grim set to his features.
"Payback," he said simply and turned to run back up the ridge.
"No!" shouted Maggie. "It's too dangerous! Konaka will -" Hendrick and Malik's forms disappeared into the darkness. Loh reached for her, but missed. Maggie stumbled after Hendrick in a panic.
Hendrick and Malik groped their way up the ridge. A siren went off in the distance. Hendrick hoped it was the alarm alerting the men in the barracks to deploy to their defensive positions. He took savage pleasure at the thought that Konaka would pay a tremendous price for killing Frank Hendrick.
Hendrick's thoughts turned dark. Revenge filled him. His brother's death had consumed him since that horrifying day years ago. The identity of his killer had tormented him, making him guilty at not doing more to protect his brother and not seeking immediate revenge. Hendrick had stifled the guilt and desire for vengeance, thinking it was the right thing to do, and had gotten on with his life. Now, this night, he had come face to face with his brother's murderer, and he could not suppress his feelings any longer. The thought that the killer was on the same island fueled Hendrick's hatred and spurred him on to confront Konaka once again.
He located the spot where Konaka's men had captured him and groped around for a few moments until he found his M16 and the grenade bag. Retracing his steps back to his vantage point on the hillside overlooking the buildings, he quickly found the cache in the rocks where he had left the SMAW. He handed the M16 and the grenades to Malik and shouldered the SMAW himself. The two rockets were in a bag that he pulled out from between the rocks. Hendrick looked toward the building they had just been in. He hoped that Konaka was still there.
They were set up thirty yards away on the hill above the building behind an outcropping of rock. They could see a lot of activity in and around the building, several of Konaka's men talking frantically into radios. Another explosion split the night, lighting up the scene in shades of white, yellow, then red.
Hendrick pulled the SMAW into the dim light and fumbled with it to load the HEDP, High Explosive Dual Purpose rocket to the back end of the tubular weapon. He set the weapon for delayed detonation, which he hoped was appropriate for the thin walled building he wanted to destroy. He hoisted the almost thirty pound weapon on his shoulder and peered through the sight. He flipped off the safety, aimed at the wall of the building and pulled the trigger.
The SMAW went off with a deafening noise, sending a plume of smoke and flame from the rear of the weapon. The rocket hurtled toward the building at nearly five hundred miles an hour. The rocket rammed through the building's wall and detonated in the interior a split second later. The explosion ripped the walls back and peeled the roof off, sending pieces of metal and debris flying in all directions.
A few of Konaka's men staggered away from the building in shock. Malik lifted his M16 and aimed at them but didn't pull the trigger. Hendrick noticed Malik's hesitation but said nothing. He was amazed at what the SMAW had done to the building. Konaka's men fell to the ground, incapacitated by the concussion of the blast.
"You think Konaka was in there?" asked Hendrick. Malik shrugged. "Only one way to find out," muttered Hendrick. "Keep their heads down." Malik nodded.
He crouched down and ran toward the burning building.
Maggie reached the top of the ridge and stared toward the building. She saw a figure outlined against the flames and immediately ran toward him. The man quickly disappeared into the burning building.
Maggie reached the building, feeling the heat sear her face. She ran through the door, hoping to talk Hendrick out of revenge on Konaka. The smoke and superheated air nearly knocked her unconscious. She fell on all fours and scrambled around, trying to see where Hendrick might have gone. A splitting noise filled the air. Maggie rolled under a table as a roof support gave way, sending burning rafters and shingles crashing down into the room.
Maggie glanced around quickly, seeing that her advance through the building was cut off by the collapsed roof. She hoped Hendrick had gotten out before the roof caved in. Her only exit was the way she had come in. She got on all fours again to head toward the front door, but her hand slipped on a piece of paper. She took a moment to look at it, sensing that the fire was not what it once was.
Cyrillic letters filled the page. She suddenly remembered the cylinder Hendrick had had in his belt bag, and Konaka's surprised reaction to its contents. She stuffed the letter inside her shirt and scrambled to the door. The blessed chill of the foggy night air soothed her as she left the building. Suddenly Loh and Wong were next to her, concern on their faces.
"I couldn't find them," gasped Maggie. She leaned on Loh to catch her breath. The three of them looked at the burning building, which had settled into a slow disintegration.
"He will meet us at the cove," said Loh. He placed a hand on her shoulder, intending to move her along.
"He's going after Konaka. To kill him for the murder of his brother," said Maggie.
Loh glanced about, showing his concern over the possible return of Konaka and his men. "They'll meet us," he repeated. He gently urged her toward the northwest end of the island, toward the cove and the means of their escape.
Hendrick backed out of the rear of the building, the heat assaulting his face. The entire structure had collapsed into a heap of burning rubble. Finding anyone in the debris was impossible. Hendrick scrambled up the small ridge to Malik.
"Find him?" asked Malik.
"Not yet," said Hendrick. He turned to go, but Malik grabbed his arm.
"We're about done here," said Malik. His meaning was clear. Revenge was one thing - getting yourself killed for revenge was just stupid.
Hendrick gave him a look of fury. "He killed Frank."
"You've done enough, Steve," replied Malik. "You've destroyed most of his organization."
"He may still be alive," spat Hendrick. He yanked his arm free and slid off into the fog.
Maggie moved with her Chinese companions, retracing their steps earlier in the night. They had picked up every weapon they could from the two dead guards. Loh and Wong had an AK47 apiece, and Maggie had picked up two nine-millimeter handguns and several clips.
They slowly moved past the helicopter pad and its hangar, noting with disappointment that the area was untouched by Hendrick's sabotage. The hangar and its surroundings were filled with guards. On the other hand, the area to the south was lit by several fires. He blew up most of the buildings on the island, she thought with surprise and burgeoning admiration.
Konaka's men had fallen back to defend their aircraft, she thought. She looked around the island, her insides quivering at the continuing danger to her, her Chinese companions, and most of all to Hendrick.
She gnawed her lip with worry. How could he exact revenge on Konaka when the terrorist was surrounded by so many bodyguards? She let out a nervous breath and prayed for Hendrick's safe return.
Suddenly two men walked out of the fog, brandishing their weapons in front of them. Maggie almost cried with joy at the sight of Hendrick and Malik. They exhaled with relief at Maggie, Loh, and Wong.
Wong immediately recounted his plan to steal a boat from the cove and escape. Malik looked at Hendrick.
"It's a good plan, Steve," he said. Hendrick's face slowly transformed from hard determination to resignation.
"You've done all you could, now let the authorities take care of Konaka and his men," implored Maggie.
A machine gun opened up, sending a half clip into the rocks surrounding them. They all dropped low to the ground.
"No light," muttered Malik, puzzled.
"Infrared," replied Hendrick.
"Great," said Malik in disgust.
Hendrick looked about for something to cover his head, then spotted Malik's grenade bag. He emptied the bag of the remaining two grenades and put it over his head to cut down his heat signature. He peered over the rocks, taking in their surroundings.
Hendrick and the others were on the downside of a hill with the crest backlit by the fires from the destroyed buildings. Any of Konaka's men coming over the top at them would be silhouetted in the dim light, thus making nice targets. Fog still swept slowly across the hillside, and Hendrick prayed for more. Body heat could be masked from Konaka's infrared night vision goggles if there were enough fog. Hendrick noted that his group was in an almost ideal location with natural rock cover encircling them.
Gunfire began in earnest, sending pieces of rock and bullet fragments flying about them. The firing tapered off, then stopped completely. Shadows shifted near the crest of the hill.
"Get ready," muttered Hendrick. He heard Malik flip off his safety.
They heard quick footsteps on the cold ground. Suddenly there were twenty men, screaming fanatics, charging toward them over the hilltop.
Hendrick and the others placed their gun barrels over the rocks and opened fire at the horde of Konaka's men charging toward them. Their AK47s and Malik's M16 chattered on full automatic, sending a burst of lead into the enemy line. Maggie leaned on a rock with a gun in each hand, alternating rounds from each weapon, causing a rapid thumping sound to fill the air. Malik fired a grenade, the launcher making a hollow sound. He shouted to get down, and they all got behind the rocks.
The grenade went off, the blinding detonation knocking down a host of the enemy. Malik fired his last grenade, getting three more of Konaka's soldiers. Hendrick and the others opened fire again, sending well-aimed bursts into the remaining enemy. Konaka's men twitched, fell, and died.
The firing stopped, silence again falling over the island. Hendrick looked at the others. They were all right, except Wong squirmed in pain. Loh breathlessly told him that Wong had stopped a bullet in his shoulder. Hendrick peered over the rocks and saw movement in the fog. Konaka was gathering his men for another attack. He pulled Malik close to him.
"Can't stay here," said Hendrick. "Take the rest of them and head for the cove."
Malik gave him a look of defiance. "You're going to need some help covering their retreat."
"One can hide better than two," countered Hendrick.
"Two can fight better than one," replied Malik.
Hendrick hesitated, then relented and slid next to Loh who was attending to Wong. "Can he walk?" asked Hendrick. Loh nodded. "Take Maggie with you. We'll keep Konaka's men busy."
Loh touched his arm. "Take care, my friend," he said with feeling.
"I don't plan on dying here," said Hendrick. "I'll be along."
He moved next to Maggie who was checking her ammunition.
"You go with Loh and Wong. Joe and I will cover," he said.
Maggie gave him an alarmed look. "You're coming with us, aren't you?"
"Sure," he replied, looking over the rocks toward Konaka's men.
"You aren't going to do anything stu-" began Maggie. Hendrick suddenly leaned over and kissed her. Her lips quivered with anxiety and fear, then her desire arose, their kiss deepening until she was breathless when he broke away.
Loh came up to them. "Let's move while Wong is still conscious."
Maggie gave Hendrick a lingering look, then crawled off behind Loh. Hendrick watched them disappear into the fog.
"She doesn't know what we have in mind, does she?" asked Malik. Hendrick didn't answer. "We won't be able to stop the next rush."
Hendrick was afraid he was right.
They could see heads silhouetted against the fading light from burning buildings, intermittently poking above the hilltop at the limit of their visibility in the fog.
"Tight spot," said Malik.
"We've been in tighter ones before," replied Hendrick.
Gunfire erupted again.
Maggie whirled around at the sounds of automatic weapons' fire in the distance. Dread filled her. She knew the gunfire was directed at Hendrick and Malik. She hesitated, wondering if she should go back to Steve.
"Keep moving!" hissed Loh at Maggie. He held Wong by the arm to keep him upright.
Maggie swallowed hard and followed after Loh, her legs getting weaker with each crack of Konaka's guns.
Konaka's men came at them again, screaming their curses at the top of their lungs. Hendrick and Malik emptied clip after clip into the charging line. The enemy was unrelenting this time, sending wave after wave at them. Malik ran out of ammunition first, followed seconds later by Hendrick. They hunkered down behind the rocks, holding their breath, looking for a way out.
Two of Konaka's men leaped over the rocks, landing behind them. Hendrick and Malik were on them immediately, grappling with them, searching for any weapon they could use. Hendrick knocked his man over backwards and grabbed his neck with both hands. The man gasped for air. Hendrick snatched a knife from the man's belt and drove it into his neck. He looked at Malik to avoid seeing the blood flowing from his adversary.
His partner had wrenched an AK47 from Konaka's soldier and fire a short burst into him. The man fell to the ground and was still.
Hendrick picked up his dead enemy's assault rifle and slid next to Malik. What next? he thought as he gasped for breath.
A small object flew through the fog and landed between them.
"Grenade!" shouted Hendrick. He picked it up in a frenzy. Two more grenades dropped ten feet away from Malik. Hendrick threw his grenade underhanded then flung himself to the ground.
Malik got to the first grenade, getting it up and over the edge of their rock cover before it exploded, sending a shock wave across both of them. Hendrick's grenade went off, flooding the area with a strobe of light. The concussion from the grenades battered them. Malik reached for the second grenade, his body between the grenade and Hendrick.
A split second later it went off, and Hendrick knew instantly his best friend was gone.
CHAPTER 29
Escape
Maggie heard the detonations and fear for Hendrick nearly overwhelmed her. She almost turned back but knew that the nearly unconscious Wong wouldn't make it if she stopped helping Loh drag him toward their only avenue of escape. The explosions ceased, and the island fell silent once again. She stumbled on, praying that Hendrick and Malik were all right.
Hendrick rolled over the rocks away from where they had made their stand, away from the horror of Malik's death. The flash of the grenade and the dismemberment of his friend seared into his mind. He could hear Konaka's deep booming voice shouting to his men, exhorting them on. The disembodied voice floated to him through the fog, mocking his abortive attempt for revenge. The voice gave him the crushing realization that his obsession with Konaka had caused his friend's death.
He slipped and crawled, slid and stumbled in the thickening fog, the shock of seeing his friend blown apart numbing his senses. The rocks battered him, causing him to bleed in a half dozen places, but he felt nothing, his thoughts frozen with the blast of the grenade that took Joe Malik's life.
He fled for a seeming eternity, the night closing around him, the fog softening the edges of the world. Grief hit him. He stopped, sliding to the ground, retching with the shock and finality of Joe's loss.
The guards at the cove had seemingly multiplied and had dug in around the pier rather than sauntering up and down as they had before. Powerful lights turned the night into day. The small island across the cove was well lit by bright lights. The alert had been sounded. Maggie eyed the seaplane anchored near the islet across the water. Loh came up to her for a whispered conversation.
"Can't take the boats. They could have guards on them," he said, thinking out loud.
"I can fly the seaplane," said Maggie in a weary voice. Loh gave her a look of surprise. She nodded at him to confirm her statement.
"Let's go," said Loh. "We have a long swim ahead of us."
Maggie shook her head and looked down at her feet. "No, we have to wait for Hendrick and Malik."
Loh got closer to her. "We can grab the plane, then look for Hendrick."
Maggie looked straight into his eyes lit by the residual glow from the pier lights. "No," she said simply.
Loh wouldn't give in easily. "I have to get word of this installation back to Taiwan."
"That intelligence business?" she asked, referring to Konaka's comment that Loh had been an official in Taiwanese intelligence.
Loh nodded. "This man, Konaka, poses a serious threat to Taiwan and Japan, as well as China."
"You would leave them here alone?" she asked with eyebrows raised, knowing that their abandonment would be a death sentence.
Voices floated to them among the fog. The three of them looked anxiously into the dark.
Loh put his lips to her ear. "We have to move now!" They grabbed Wong, pulling him down the hill. Maggie went willingly, driven by the fear of Konaka's men. They had escaped death three times this night. She didn't want to try her luck a fourth time.
They reached the water's edge and quickly entered the bone chilling water, the voices closing the distance swiftly behind them. The rapidly advancing guards drove them to swim at a panicked pace only slowed by the nearly unconscious Wong between them.
Fifteen minutes later, they reached the starboard pontoon of the seaplane, lining up on the inside of the pontoon with the fuselage of the plane just above them. Maggie looked the aircraft over as Loh studied the shoreline for patrolling guards. They saw five black uniformed men walk the beach with flashlights looking for signs of their trail.
If they are any good at all, they'll see where we went into the water, thought Maggie. They pulled Wong out of the water and struggled to get him into the plane, settling him into the rear seat. Loh turned to Maggie who sank into the pilot's seat.
"No keys," said Maggie and pointed at the dashboard. Loh took in the situation, then scrambled under the dashboard, pulling out a set of wire cutters and a pair of needle-nosed pliers out of his pocket. He turned on a small flashlight, and went to work. After five minutes he straightened up and said, "Ready."
"You could have a future in grand theft auto," she said without humor, then saw movement in the distance. "Uh, oh." The patrol along the shore had found their tracks leading into the sea. She could see two of them pointing toward the plane.
"We're going to get some nasty company real soon," she whispered to Loh. She quickly got busy checking out the plane's controls.
"Start it now," commanded Loh. He squirmed around to get a good view of the soldiers on the shore.
"What about Hendrick?" she asked in a breathless tone. Loh didn't answer. She turned to him and repeated the question through gritted teeth. Loh looked at her sadly and just shook his head.
She turned back to her controls, despair welling up in her. Where was he? Was he still alive? She had a sudden thought. "We could -"
"We'll send someone back for him," finished Loh.
Maggie looked back at Loh and saw a boatload of guards heading toward them at high speed. She hit the starter in a panic. The engine turned over for several agonizing seconds then coughed into life. Maggie grabbed the collective and tested the controls. Loh immediately began shooting with his AK47 at the anchor lines that kept the plane from drifting away. After several shots, he yelled that they were free.
Maggie gunned the engine, aiming the plane for the opening in the cove to the north and praying that there were no underwater obstacles to snag the plane's pontoons.
They picked up speed slowly at first, the sounds of gunfire from Konaka's men clearly heard over the roar of the plane's engine. One bullet went through the side window passing within an inch of Wong's face and exiting out the windscreen, sending pieces of Plexiglas flying about the cabin. Loh leaned out the side window and fired at the oncoming guards.
The plane picked up speed rapidly, leaving the guards behind. The sound of gunfire diminished and soon Maggie felt lift building under the wings. The aircraft climbed slowly into the night sky as relief flooded Maggie and the others. Her thoughts immediately shifted.
Where was Hendrick?
A large explosion suddenly ripped through the fog and lit up the night. Maggie banked the plane over to get a better view. Her spirits leaped in her. That was Hendrick! she thought excitedly to herself. He was still alive!
She passed low over the island, the sight on the ground disturbing her. In the glow from the explosion she could see Konaka's guards converging quickly on a spot on the side of one of the hills. The tips of their assault rifles gave off intermittent flashes of fire.
Hendrick's breath came in gasps as his lungs clawed at the moist night air. He stumbled along, trying to keep the hill between the guards and himself, dimly aware that he made a good target in the enemy's infrared scopes. Konaka's men were shooting at something, but he thanked God that it wasn't him.
The roar of the last explosion rumbled across the island and shook him with powerful waves of sound. He knew it was the SAM installation going up. Any invasion force wouldn't have to contend with that anymore.
Hendrick had taken out almost all Konaka's buildings, except for the hangar containing the helicopters, and the lighthouse, which he wouldn't have destroyed anyway.
The noise from the blast died away, leaving a fragile puttering sound in its wake. Hendrick stopped long enough to search the sky for the origin of the sound. He quickly located a silhouette against the glow from the underside of the clouds.
A plane! Hendrick's spirits went up a notch. Could it be Loh, Wong, and Maggie getting away from this terrible place? The aircraft was a slow, calm element of his surroundings, an oasis of hope amid the horror playing out on the island below.
He knew it was Maggie and the others, and the thought cheered him. He started again to pick his way among the rocks made slippery by the moisture-laden air, heading for a cave he had found earlier that evening. Voices came up behind him.
Can they see me? he asked himself in a panic. He began to run, but immediately slipped and fell.
Gunfire erupted behind him.
Maggie squirmed with tension as she saw the flashes of light below. Was it Hendrick they were firing at? Were they shooting at him this very moment? She plagued herself with impossible questions. She moved the stick to pass over the island again, but Loh reached over and grabbed her hand.
"We can't help him," said Loh in her ear. "Go to Taiwan. The faster we get there, the faster we can get back."
Maggie glanced back over her shoulder at the lights still left on the island, her heart pounding with grief. She straightened the plane on the heading for Taiwan, her thoughts in turmoil. One thought surfaced.
Forgive me, Steve.
CHAPTER 30
The Letter
TAIPEI, TAIWAN
Maggie Ramsey left the bar in a rush with two thoroughly drunk men following her into the street. Now I've gone and done it, she thought miserably. These two leeches think that they're going to get into my pants tonight just because I've had two drinks.
Maggie walked quickly down the street, searching for a taxi. The men got too close once, and she turned on them with a vengeance.
"Listen you two, get lost!" she blurted out. She cursed herself under her breath. The two men, one Oriental and one Occidental, both grinned stupidly.
"Hey baby, why don't you come home with ush," said the Occidental one, slurring his words.
Maggie dismissed them with a disgusted wave, then turned and kept walking down the street. A taxi turned around the corner and proceeded slowly toward her. She walked up to the curb and waved the cab down. The cab came to a stop next to her, and she got a hand on the door, then she felt the presence of the drunks very close to her.
Maggie turned and saw them both with imbecilic smiles not three feet from her. They were ready to get into the taxi with her. She smiled sweetly and opened the door with a flourish.
"You convinced me, boys," Maggie said in a loud voice. "Let's go party."
The men cheered in a gurgling fashion then fell into the back seat of the taxi. Maggie went up to the driver, pulled out a wad of money, and leaned into the window.
"Take these two idiots ten kilometers from here and drop them off. They'll never know that they're not home," Maggie said in fluent Chinese. The cab driver's eyes went wide open at both her command of Chinese and the amount of money she was waving in his face.
The driver agreed readily, and moments later, the two men were whisked away by the taxi. Maggie waved at the departing cab. She could see the two men looking through the back window with surprise on their faces.
"Bye, boys," said Maggie. "Start the party without me." Her words echoed among the dark buildings of midnight Taipei. She began to walk in the direction of her hotel, breathing deeply to control herself, taking in the smells of the city, exhaust from the tens of thousands of motor scooters, and the occasional odor of an underground sewer.
The clip clop of footsteps across the street alerted her to the approach of another person. Maggie saw a man heading in the opposite direction on the other side of the street. She suddenly looked around, aware of how dangerous the streets of Taipei could be for a woman alone. The stranger on the other side of the street - was he a danger?
Maggie stared at the man - he also was alone. The man's face was in the shadows until he drew directly opposite her. His face came out into the light of an overhead sign. Maggie gaped at the man's profile.
"Hendrick?" she exclaimed involuntarily. The man turned and looked at her full face. Maggie stepped off the foot high curb, walking halfway across the street, staring at the man who had stopped walking upon hearing her say something.
"Well, I say, I'd rather wish I was," said the man in a British accent.
She gave the Englishman a disgusted wave and walked off down the street. What's that? she thought, the fiftieth time I thought I saw Steve in the last two days? Since when did he become my obsession?
And why am I keeping his things? A bag of his belongings had been recovered from the floating wreck that was all that remained of Loh's boat. Loh had taken possession of them, then had turned them over to Maggie. He had told her to give them back to Hendrick when he showed up again.
She had looked inside the bag, then turned it upside down, dumping the items on the bed. There were the necessary toilet articles, razor, shaving cream, deodorant, underwear, an extra shirt, a camera, and a Russian-English dictionary. She had closed her eyes and had held the shirt close to her, breathing in the man's scent, a curiously exciting mixture of deodorant, sweat, and some other indefinable quantity. She had remembered how his arms went around her, the feeling of his kisses on her neck, how he bit her gently on the top of her shoulder.
Maggie quickly opened her eyes and tried to bring herself back to reality. "I don't believe this," she mumbled to herself. "I'm being turned on by a dead man." Maybe human attraction is based on chemicals, she thought. Built in aphrodisiacs - maybe that's why some people seemed addicted to another. Am I addicted to Steve? Already?
The events of the last few days blurred in her consciousness. They had run and rerun constantly in her mind only to leave her exhausted with guilt at leaving Konaka's island without Hendrick and Malik. Loh had somehow gotten a covert action team to invade the island only thirty-six hours after she and her two companions had escaped. They had found nothing of consequence. Several new craters were evident, the result of Hendrick's pyrotechnics. No bodies were found, but there was plenty of evidence of the battle they had fought there. Shell casings, blood, and some body parts were found. The boats were gone, the helicopters were gone, the freighter was gone. Konaka and his men were gone.
And Hendrick and Malik were gone.
Am I going to cry myself to sleep again, or will I spend another sleepless night? If you ask me, I'll settle for crying this time, she thought with a surge of despair. I need the sleep.
Ten minutes later, she entered the lobby of her hotel and went up the elevator to her room. She fished out her key and unlocked the door. Maggie didn't bother to turn on the light, deciding to fall into bed in the dark. She kicked off her shoes, dropped her coat on the floor and did a belly flop on the double bed in one corner of the room.
"Maggie," said a soft voice three inches from her ear.
Maggie's head snapped upward, then the rest of her body leaped out of bed in a cat-like movement. She quickly had a handgun out and pointed into the dark.
The lights snapped on, and Maggie blinked at the figure who was lying on one side of her bed with a smile on his face.
"Hendrick!" she said in disbelief.
Steve Hendrick rolled off the bed and went over to Maggie. He wrapped his arms around her and she sank into his arms.
"I thought you were dead," she said in an agonized voice. "The guards were attacking and -"
"I hid in every rat hole on that stinking island," replied Hendrick. "They got close a few times, but I managed to wiggle out of their way."
"How's Joe? Where is he?" she asked, looking over his shoulder.
Hendrick's face fell with grief. He let Maggie go and turned away.
"What is it? What's the matter?" she asked with alarm.
"Joe didn't make it," he said, his voice full of emotion.
Maggie pulled Hendrick close to her. "Oh God, no."
"He took a grenade for me," said Hendrick, his voice held firm to counteract his feelings.
Maggie put her arms around his neck and began to weep. He held her for a long moment until her emotions subsided. He began to move away, but she held him closely. She reached up and kissed him on the lips, her tears making their lips wet. His lips, cold with grief, warmed quickly under Maggie's passionate kiss. She pulled at his shirt, yanking the buttons open, feeling his chest under her fingers.
He pulled on a zipper, her slacks falling loose around her ankles. They went faster and faster, undressing each other in a burst of desire, clothes flying about as fast at they could get them off.
They sank onto the bed, making love over and over until they fell asleep in each other's arms as the early morning light sent a soft glow into the room.
"So how did you get from that rotten little island to here?" Maggie asked as she played with the hair on Steve's chest. She rubbed her naked body against Steve's, memories of the previous night lingering in her mind.
"I stole a boat and sailed it back to the Taiwanese coast," he explained. "Konaka evacuated the island soon after you, Wong, and Loh took off."
"So where have you been for the last three days?" she asked.
"Uh, well, it took me some time to get back here. The truth is that I think someone is after me," he explained, lowering his voice. "There are men watching my hotel room. I barely got in and out before more men showed up."
"It's probably just the police. They'll want to talk to you about blowing up most of Tung-yin Tao," replied Maggie.
"No, this isn't the police," said Hendrick with certainty. "Loh checked with his friends in the police force. They don't want me for anything. They think I'm dead. It's someone else."
"I guess you didn't find Konaka," she said with relief.
Hendrick's face fell, then darkened with anger. "Someday."
Maggie was silent for a moment, pressing her face into his chest. When she spoke, her voice was full of emotion. "I'm sorry about Joe."
Hendrick exhaled with grief. "Looks like anyone who hangs around with me gets killed." His voice took on a note of surprise. "I have no one left."
"Wrong," said Maggie. "You have me."
Hendrick nodded and tried to smile.
She had a sudden thought. "Oh, I have something for you." Maggie slid out of bed and walked over to the closet. Hendrick gazed at her, her complete tan and the memory of her soft skin pulling at his desire. Maggie grabbed a robe and slipped it on, breaking his reverie. She picked up a flight bag and handed it to him.
"My bag!" he said with surprise. "You saved it. Good thing the bag was waterproof."
He pulled out his camera with the satisfaction of finding an old friend. "I thought I'd never see this again. You're a doll for saving my stuff." He moved over to give her another kiss. She returned the kiss enthusiastically.
Maggie went over to a drawer and pulled out a yellow piece of paper. She turned around and handed it to Hendrick. He looked it over quickly.
"This is the letter that Konaka had taken from that metal cylinder I found on the Awa Maru," said Hendrick with surprise.
"I'd love to know why Konaka was so glad to read this letter," she said.
Hendrick looked the letter over once again. Some of the words were smeared from Maggie's swim to the seaplane, but it was still readable. He had read it while Konaka's prisoner but hadn't understood all of it. His eyes immediately went to the bottom of the pages to confirm who had signed the document. The scrawl was illegible. His eyes flicked to the name neatly typed under the signature. The name was Josef Stalin.
"Why was this thing in a metal cylinder?" mused Maggie. "Strange they had a screw cap on one end, then welded it shut."
Hendrick's mouth fell open in shock. The screw cap on the cylinder! His mother's words exploded in his mind.
Your father would stop and pick up every stick that we would walk past. I'd yank on his arm to move him along, but he'd insist that he had to polish the end of the stick.
He wasn't polishing! He was trying to unscrew the cap on the metal cylinder I had found on the Awa Maru!
Hendrick looked at the letter again. This had been his father's mission. This was his father's obsession.
CHAPTER 31
The Soviet Offer
TAIPEI, TAIWAN
The house was quiet with a creak now and then as the wind off the East China Sea made the house flex slightly. The clock on the mantelpiece bonged once softly, marking the half hour.
Robert Lindsey wished he had the energy to get up and make a fire in the woodburning stove. The room would warm up and give a feeling of contentment once again. He hadn't felt warm since his wife, Eva, had died, leaving him alone. They hadn't had any children, and the nearest relatives were several thousand miles away.
He picked up the envelope and pulled out the photo, looking it over one last time. He had heard years ago that it had cost three agents' lives to obtain that one piece of intelligence. He gazed at the gray tones then irritably shoved it into the folder where it had been for nearly six decades. He leaned over and shut out the light on the side table next to him. Sometimes he would just sit in the dark for hours, thinking.
The last report from their agent on the Kurchatov stated that Hendrick had led just a salvage mission. No intelligence mission involved, even though two members of the SVR were on board. They were there apparently to make sure that Russia got their cut of the treasure. How the mission of Russia's intelligence agents has changed, thought Lindsey with a grunt of amusement.
And Steve Hendrick had found no trace of the Russian diplomatic mission on the Awa Maru. At least that what the report had said.
Lindsey's aging eyes swept over the walls with their myriad shadows overlapping each other, creating a whirlwind of emotion in his mind. He thought of his friend Ed Hendrick, Steve's father. They had fought together for years against the Japanese occupation of China and had braved many dangers. They were proud of their harrowing experiences, the narrow escapes, the race for safety into the night. I was so naive then, he thought. I expected we would discover the Russian mission, and escape in a life raft, not get sunk by torpedoes from one of our own submarines.
The shuddering of the Awa Maru ran through him once again as the four torpedoes slammed into its starboard side one by one. He reeled at the impacts and groaned as the ship groaned with the strain of seawater pouring into gaping holes in her side.
The lights had gone out, and all hell had broken loose seconds after the torpedoes had opened her side to the sea. People poured from the cabins and struggled up the stairs to get topside before the ship sank beneath them. He had lost track of Hendrick in the meleé, and while forcing his way up one of the stairwells, had been struck on the head by something very hard after one of the secondary explosions. He awoke some time later in the water, choking from inhaling seawater and amazed that he was still alive.
He had seen Hendrick once more years later. Ed Hendrick didn't recognize him. Lindsey had known that there was a medical reason why, but it still hurt that his old friend hadn't fought through the fog in his mind to talk to him.
He thought of him for a while and felt embarrassed to realize that his face was just a blur dimmed by the intervening decades. No pictures were ever taken of either of them during the war in case of their capture by the Japanese.
He felt he owed something to his friend, one who had saved his life many times over. He also had returned the favor many times during the war years. But what did he owe Hendrick? Maybe he could bring closure to the mission they had undertaken so long ago. That was the reason he had traveled to Taiwan and had rented this house. To be close to the ones who could expose the Stalinist treachery of a half century before. And he had in hand the means to complete it.
It was time for the truth. No more lies, no subterfuges, no maneuvering, just truth. His eyes settled on the envelope he had laid on the table next to him.
A truth that would shake two governments to their core.
Hendrick stared at the document in front of him. He touched it gingerly as if to remind himself that the letter was actually real. His father's presence on the Awa Maru suddenly made sense. The OSS had assigned him to find out why the Soviets were on a ship bound for Japan. The Soviet Union was allied with the United States, so why were the Soviets going to talk to the Japanese? The letter in front of him had the answer.
He reached into the night table and got blank paper, then proceeded to write out the English translation of the letter. He wrote out what he knew, then picked up the Russian-English dictionary he had in his bag to fill in the unknown words. One of the words he couldn't translate was izdelie. His fingers flew over the pages of the dictionary until he found the English equivalent. Izdelie meant article. There was another word associated with it, iadernyi. He poured through the dictionary in a fever.
Iadernyi meant nuclear. Hendrick's jaw went slack.
Putting the two words together, he had nuclear article. But what kind of nuclear article? Hendrick grunted to himself. Had the Soviets used the words atomic bomb, he would have spotted it immediately. The word atom appears the same in Russian as in English, and the word bomb is very nearly the same in both languages.
He quickly filled in the missing words and read the entire letter from Josef Stalin to the premier of Japan with the hair rising on the back of his neck.
The government of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics extends its greetings to the Imperial Government of Japan.
The Soviet Union finds that it is in its interest that Japan stay in the war against the United States for as long as possible, and that Japan obtains the most favorable terms at the cessation of hostilities.
The Soviet Union has been engaged in the development of an article of great energy for some years now, and this project is nearing completion.
Toward that end, the Soviet Union is willing to enter into negotiations to deliver to Japan two or more completed nuclear articles in exchange for other considerations, which the government of Japan may be willing to extend to the Soviet Union.
This initiative shall be referred to by the code name Hidden Sun.
My personal representative, Boris Maximovich Deriabin is to be extended every courtesy, and he is accompanied by Yuri Vladimirovich Rybakov who will give you a technical briefing on this initiative.
The government of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics awaits your reply.
Josef Stalin
Premier of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
Secretary General of the Communist Party
Maggie leaned over his shoulder and read the translation. She whistled softly. Her thoughts ran forward. "Why would Konaka get excited by this? He said that this letter gave him Japan."
Hendrick read the letter again to be sure of its meaning then leaned back as the historic implications roared through his mind. The letter from Stalin made it clear that the article referred to was a nuclear weapon. The Russians might have deliberately used a generic phrase instead of atomic bomb as the U.S. had used. The phrase nuclear article could be construed to be a nuclear reactor, so that the Russians could in the future deny the offer to provide atomic bombs to the Japanese.
"Wait a minute. Something's wrong here," mumbled Hendrick to himself. His forehead knotted in bewilderment. Maggie looked at him questioningly.
"The Soviet Union only exploded their first atomic bomb a few years after World War Two ended, in 1949, I think," he said, a question forming in his mind.
Maggie gave voice to it. "Then why would Stalin want to offer the Japanese something he didn't have?"
Hendrick shook his head to convey his uncertainty. He lapsed into thought. "One thing is certain. We can't stay here. I've stayed here too long. Loh has offered us his country house as a safe place until we can sort this thing out, and until the Taiwan authorities can grab all of Konaka's men. So let's get out of here."
CHAPTER 32
Love and Flames
Loh's house was nestled in the Taiwan countryside in Taipei County near Wulai. The scenery was beautiful with mountains rising sharply from deep gorges, a winding river flowing at the bottom. The rural surroundings had houses of mostly western design, except for the older homes of Japanese design left over from the Japanese rule of Taiwan. Loh's home was a western style home with stucco exterior and some extras, chief of which was the large, woodburning fireplace in his living room, a rarity in Taiwanese homes.
The view was breathtaking, looking down a curving valley, small homes dotting the riverbanks, and hills bright green with dense vegetation enclosing the peaceful countryside. The road was long, narrow, and winding, up the side of a mountain, eventually turning into a dirt path as they neared Loh's house. Loh was at his apartment in Taipei and used the house on his days off.
Hendrick and Maggie walked up to the house and through the front door, turned on the lights, Hendrick dropping his bag next to the door. He walked over to the telephone, explaining that he hadn't checked his voice mail at the hotel for several days. He dialed a number, talked to an operator, punched in his access code, and began listening to the recorded messages. A few were from relatives, but one message brought a smile to his lips. It was from Golubev, the submarine captain he had hired to take them into the Taiwan Strait and his new-found Russian friend. Hendrick listened for a while then turned to look at Maggie's politely puzzled face.
"Golubev has started his own company!" said Hendrick with an amazed smile as he scribbled down the phone number Golubev had left in his message. "He actually bought the submarine we used to recover the treasure from the Awa Maru. Now he's looking for clients to go after sunken treasure!" Hendrick smiled fully for the first time since Joe Malik was killed. Maggie was relieved to see him relax a bit, but remained puzzled until Hendrick explained who Golubev was. He left out the part about splitting the Awa Maru bank notes with the grizzly old Russian.
There was a knock at the door. Hendrick looked through the curtains and recognized a familiar figure. He pulled open the door and warmly greeted Ian Howard. Howard came in, and Hendrick introduced him to Maggie.
"Loh told me where to find you," said Howard to explain the questioning look from Maggie. He had a compassionate look on his face. "I heard about Joe Malik. I'm sorry."
Hendrick grimaced and nodded. He waved Howard to a chair and settled on the sofa facing the fireplace. Maggie sat next to him.
"Loh is taking care of shipping his body back to the States," said Howard.
"Yeah, he's got a brother who'll take it from there," replied Hendrick.
"I hope you made that bloke Konaka pay a pretty price for Joe," said Howard.
"Not the price I wanted," said Hendrick grimly.
Howard understood and nodded.
"How is Wong, Loh's cousin?" asked Hendrick.
"Apparently he'll be okay," replied Howard. "They got him to the hospital just in time. With Loh's contacts, he'll be able to smuggle Wong back to Niushan Dao after he's better." He seemed to want to say something but hesitated. Steve and Maggie looked at him expectantly.
"Konaka now has the attention of several governments, Japan and the United States, of course. China as well," said Howard slowly.
Maggie caught on. "How do you know?"
"I work for British SIS," said Howard.
"Secret Intelligence Service. They used to call you MI6," said Maggie with a touch of awe in her voice. Howard nodded.
Hendrick thought back to recovery operations aboard the sub. "British intelligence was keeping an eye on us?"
"You were covertly entering the territorial waters of one of the few remaining Communist countries in the world using a Russian sub and a Russian crew," replied Howard. "Someone, somewhere decided that we should find out what was really going on."
"Who's that someone?" asked Hendrick.
"CIA," replied Maggie with certainty.
Howard hesitated, then nodded. "Joe Malik was nosing about trying to find divers and managed to get two from the UK. I had diving experience in the North Sea, so we convinced one of the divers that I should go in his place. It's no secret that the US and the UK share intelligence, and covert operations as well."
"Oh, yeah. You were the last minute replacement for a diver who got sick," said Hendrick, the intelligence operation on his salvage mission becoming clear. Hendrick shook his head. He knew he should be angry, but Ian had helped greatly with the salvage operation. "Glad to have you along."
"Glad to be of service, Yank," replied Howard with a broad smile.
Hendrick returned a smile.
"Steve, who are Loshak and Drukarev?" asked Maggie. She noticed Howard suddenly sit up straight in his chair.
"They were two SVR agents on the sub with us when we recovered the treasure," replied Hendrick. "Why do you ask?"
"They're working for Konaka," she said.
"How do you know?" asked Howard who seemed very interested in the information.
"When I was traveling with Konaka to Niushan Dao to find Steve, Konaka talked about those two as if they were his employees," answered Maggie. "He didn't know I speak Japanese."
"Russian intelligence sends two agents to keep an eye on me, but they're really working for Konaka," said Hendrick. "So that's why they wanted those bank notes so badly. They wanted to help Konaka finance his operation on that island." Hendrick shook his head. "Let's see. American CIA, British SIS, and Russian SVR all interested in us. Any others?"
"Don't forget Loh, who used to be in Taiwanese intelligence," said Maggie. Howard nodded knowingly, and Hendrick rolled his eyes.
"Yes, it seems I'm surrounded by spies," said Hendrick and looked pointedly at Maggie. And who do you work for? he thought. His doubt about Maggie was always just under the surface ready to pop up at any moment. He had been ignoring it since he had gotten back from Konaka's island, but he knew he'd have to confront her soon.
"I wonder what that bugger Konaka is really up to," mused Howard.
"He apparently wants to rule Japan," said Maggie.
Hendrick grunted to himself. "Yeah, That's what he said after he saw Stalin's letter."
"Stalin's what?" asked Howard.
Hendrick told them about Stalin's letter offering atomic bombs to Japan to stay in the war. Howard let out a soundless whistle.
"But what I don't understand is why the Russians offered atomic bombs to Japan that the Russians themselves didn't have," said Hendrick.
"The Soviets only exploded their first atomic bomb in August of 1949, four years after Stalin made this offer to the Japanese," said Howard. "The Soviets weren't working hard on an atomic bomb until after Hiroshima when Stalin suddenly woke up to the political implications of the United States having the bomb, and the Soviet Union not having it. They then instituted a crash program to make a bomb at any cost.
"The Soviet Union wasn't at war with Japan when this offer was made," continued Howard. "They only entered the war against Japan in August, 1945, just a few weeks before the war ended." He began to tick off the facts on his fingers. "So, they make an offer of atomic bombs knowing that they didn't have any. The offer never gets there because the Awa Maru is sunk in the Taiwan Strait. Then several months later, the Soviets declare war on Japan. First they try to help the Japanese, then they attack them."
"There was a lot of post war maneuvering in Europe as each side tried to establish their influence over the different countries that were getting back on their feet after World War Two," said Hendrick. "There was a great fear that France would go Communist, and there were all sorts of elections in the eastern European countries where the Soviets tried to get the Communist party into control." He leaned toward Howard. "Suppose the Soviets wanted to keep Japan in the war to keep the U.S. preoccupied with defeating Japan. Then the Soviets could do all this political maneuvering in Europe, and the U.S. would be distracted by the continuing war with Japan."
Howard nodded. "Yes, and the Soviets had another reason to keep Japan in the war with the U.S. The Soviets wanted to grab the Kurile Islands and the Kamchatka Peninsula, which the Soviets felt were used by Japan to isolate them from the Pacific Ocean. They also wanted to get a friendly government into Manchuria and throw the Japanese out. The Soviets apparently were afraid that Japan would surrender to the U.S. before the Soviets could get their army out to the Far East to grab some of that land."
"So they prop up the Japanese with the offer of two atomic bombs to drop on American forces as we were about to invade Japan," said Hendrick, nodding his head.
"But why have them go by the Awa Maru?" asked Maggie.
"I think I can answer that one," replied Hendrick. "In the spring of 1945, the U.S. had virtually isolated Japan from all contact with the outside world. The U.S. Navy had completely encircled Japan and had destroyed most of their shipping. It would have looked very suspicious if the Soviets had asked the United States for safe passage for one of their diplomats to begin talks with the Japanese. The allies had all agreed to press for unconditional surrender, and the U.S. was controlling the war in the Pacific at that point."
"And the Awa Maru had safe passage back to Japan," added Maggie.
"Right. It was the only ship with safe passage. So the Soviets got their diplomats to Singapore, which was a hell of a lot easier than getting through the U.S. blockade, then they boarded the Awa Maru there," finished Hendrick.
Maggie nodded. "It makes sense."
"Suppose the Awa Maru hadn't been sunk, and the Soviet diplomats had arrived in Japan," said Hendrick. "And the Japanese had held out longer, anticipating the delivery of atomic bombs which weren't coming any time soon. How many more lives would have been lost? Supposed the Japanese had held out until 1949 when the Soviets really did have atomic bombs? And the Japanese dropped them on our forces. Can you imagine the devastation if that happened? Instead of about three hundred thousand killed in action in World War Two, we would have had twice that many at least. How many more atomic bombs would we have dropped on Japan to get them to surrender? How many millions of Japanese would have died as a result?"
"How many people wouldn't be alive today if that had happened? All the sons and daughters that never would have been born, and grandchildren," asked Maggie in a hushed voice.
"Thank God that it was all just a con game," replied Hendrick. "And that the war had ended when it did. The Soviet Union would have ruled the world if they could have precipitated a nuclear war between the U.S. and Japan."
Maggie looked at Steve with an awed expression.
"The Russians will be very embarrassed to have this tidbit of history become public knowledge," said Howard.
They fell silent as they considered the historical implications of Stalin's offer of nuclear weapons to the Japanese. Howard stirred to go.
"There must be more to Stalin's bomb offer than meets the eye," said Howard. "That was over sixty years ago. How could it affect anyone now?"
"How could it give Japan to Konaka?" asked Maggie. The question hung among the three of them unanswered. Howard walked to the door.
"I must be off. We're working very hard trying to locate Konaka," said Howard. He said his goodbyes and was out into the night.
Steve and Maggie prepared dinner from food they had bought at a local market and sat at a small table he brought into the living room from the kitchen. Hendrick explained that he wanted to be near the fire.
Midway through the meal Hendrick stared across the table at Maggie Ramsey. She had her back to the fireplace, and her upper body seemed to be outlined in fire.
"What's the matter?" she asked, pausing before raising a food-laden fork to her mouth.
Hendrick blinked quickly several times before answering. "I was just thinking that I don't know much about you."
She gave him a half smile. "What would you like to know?"
He shrugged.
She launched into her life story. "I was born in Bayonne, New Jersey, but my family moved to Schenectady, New York when I was five years old. I went to UCLA and graduated a few years ago Cum Laude majoring in Asian languages, primarily Chinese and Japanese. I did some post graduate work in Japan, but dropped out to take a job with The Far East Trading Company."
"So how come you can just take off and stay in Taipei with me?" he asked, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice. He wasn't sure he succeeded.
"They gave me some time off after my ordeal with the pirates," she replied. Her half smile disappeared.
Hendrick tried to ask the next question in an offhand manner. "Are you going to visit your parents in the states soon?"
A cloud passed over her face. "My father died five years ago in an automobile accident on the New Jersey Turnpike. And my mother married a Japanese man and moved to Tokyo. I already told you that."
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I mean about your father." They ate silently for a few minutes.
"How come your mother married a Japanese guy?" he asked.
"She was always fascinated with the Orient, particularly Japan," sighed Maggie. "I always had the feeling that she was frustrated by her marriage to my father. She suggested that they move to Japan, but he always just laughed at her." Her face clouded over again. Hendrick had never seen her so sad. She glanced at him and gave a cynical smile. "Did I tell you that my stepfather refused to pay any ransom for me to Chang?"
Hendrick shook his head in sympathy.
"Apparently he wanted my mother, but not me," she finished with a surprisingly firm voice.
Hendrick thought he should change the subject. "What exactly do you do for The Far East Trading Company?"
She eyed him closely. "I do market analyses for them." She paused. "You're the curious one, aren't you?"
He shrugged again. "Well we've been together a while now, and you haven't said anything about yourself, so I figured I'd ask."
She nodded to herself and seemed satisfied with his answer. "The grand inquisition is over then?"
He smiled quickly and took a sip of wine. "Not at all. We haven't gotten to the pit and the pendulum yet."
She laughed, then gave him a wary glance. "As long as I don't have to be searched for weapons again."
"I was suspicious of everyone back then," he replied in an apologetic tone.
"Joe told me the reason why you don't trust women. A woman dumped you because of your father's illness."
Hendrick grimaced at the memory. "Joe's got a big mouth." He stopped. "- had a big mouth." He lapsed into painful silence. "I'll never get used to him not being around."
Maggie slid her hand across the table and touched his hand.
He was grateful for her sympathy for Joe's death, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something from him. Why did she have him say that coded phrase over the phone to an answering machine in Taipei? Maggie had said that the answering machine belonged to her employer, The Far East Trading Company. Was it just a coincidence that she escaped from Chang soon afterwards? Hendrick got up after a moment and stirred the fire behind her, then sat down. She smiled just as flames leaped up, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney.
An hour later, Steve and Maggie sat in front of the fire on the floor, leaning on large cushions taken from the sofa. The flames caused the light to waver and flicker, sending the shadows in the room into a random dance across the walls and ceiling. The remnants of a drink in his bloodstream soothed him, causing him to relax for the first time in days.
Maggie rested in his arms with her head on his chest. Her hair, radiant in the firelight, gave off an indefinable fragrance to delight his senses. He closed his eyes, letting the light from the fire play over his eyelids, penetrating with only dim intensity to let him know the flames still continued their frantic dance over the wood.
"I can't believe what happened on that island. It's like a nightmare," Maggie mumbled. "You could have been killed."
"We could have been killed. Just a few days ago, we were dodging bullets," he said, hardly believing it happened. He opened his eyes and looked into her hair an inch away. He thought of Maggie firing over the rocks at Konaka's charging soldiers. "You were pretty good with a gun, once you put some bullets in it. Where did you learn to handle weapons that well?"
"Well, Love, a girl has to protect herself," she replied, avoiding the question. Hendrick closed his eyes again and savored the feeling of Maggie's body next to him. Hendrick opened his eyes and looked at the jittering flames in their job consuming the firewood.
"Steve?" she said quietly. He mumbled a yes. "I'm sorry about your brother."
They sat silently for a long moment, then he began to talk in a quiet, melancholy voice. "Frank was my older brother. He was only two years older, but he was always bigger, stronger, more aggressive. I guess I looked up to him. One of the reasons I left the navy was to see him more often."
Maggie looked at him with sympathy. "Are you sure that it was Konaka who killed him?"
Steve nodded his head. "I'll never forget that face. The rest were killed by the sharks. Joe Malik came down after we were overdue, and dumped shark repellant all over. By that time there was only pieces left of them, and Frank. Konaka must have slipped away somehow."
"I'm surprised you can talk about it," she said.
Steve shrugged. "Time is the great healer, isn't it?" He paused for a moment. "Only I don't feel healed."
"Are you sure revenge is the thing to do?" asked Maggie quietly.
"He's killed my brother and my best friend," he replied savagely. "I owe them something." He fell silent and a moment later he shook his head. He wasn't sure. "It's just that Frank and Joe were there one second, and gone forever the next. Forever. No appeal. No chance to get the decision changed. Gone - and there's nothing you can do to bring them back."
Maggie squeezed his hand sympathetically. "Konaka scares me."
"When my brother was killed, my father never knew. He's still back on the Awa Maru trying to discover what the Russians were doing there. I wonder how he would feel if he knew it all came to nothing."
"Did it?" asked Maggie provocatively. "Konaka was very happy to read that letter."
They both lapsed into silence. Hendrick started to speak again softly. "God, I regret some things."
Maggie looked at him with wide-open eyes.
"When my mother died, I thought that the wrong parent died. It should have been my father. He was useless anyway. Why didn't he die and leave my mother alone?" He closed his eyes tightly, fighting his emotions. "I always wanted my father to be proud of me. I guess I transferred my relationship with my father to my brother. When my brother was killed, I felt that there was no one left to be proud of me."
"And if you completed your father's mission he would be proud of you if he knew what you had done," asked Maggie.
He nodded sadly. "Yes. And look where it got me."
"Do you realize the Awa Maru had led to nothing but tragedy for over sixty years?" asked Maggie. "First over two thousand people were killed when it sank. Who knows how many Chinese divers. Then your brother, then Joe. How many more will die? When will it end?"
Hendrick gazed at the fire for a long while, then gave Maggie a piercing look. "Did you mean what you said a few minutes ago?"
"When?" she asked.
"When you called me Love," he replied, his eyes searching hers.
Her face softened and a look of longing filled her. "Yes, I meant it." Her voice was soft among the shadows of the room.
Hendrick smiled and gave her a brief hug. He sighed and leaned his head back on the cushion as exhaustion passed over him like a wave, engulfing him in weariness. Staying alive was a wearisome business.
"Last night was fantastic," Maggie said with a smile. He smiled back, then closed his eyes, lingering over the memory of the most erotic and explosive lovemaking he had ever experienced.
She began to stroke Hendrick's hair. She waited for him to respond. When he kept his eyes closed, she added, "Maybe you have someone else on your mind."
He opened his eyes. "It's only been you, Maggie. Ever since we ran in from the rain together on the salvage ship in the Taiwan Strait, it's only been you." He had the swift realization that with this woman, with Maggie only, he wanted to be with her forever. His feelings came into crystal clear focus - then slipped out again as the rigors of the last few days took over.
He tried to keep his eyes open as long as he could, staying with the look of Maggie's face by firelight and feeling her fingers run slowly, languorously through his hair. Then he closed his eyes and was done for the night.
Maggie stared at him, blinking back tears of emotion. He had just told her the most romantic thing she had ever heard. Was all this love? Is that why her heart seemed to pound out of her chest when he would draw near? She knew the answer and had tried to pretend that it wasn't happening, but she could ignore it no longer. She was in love with him, totally, completely.
He hadn't yet told her he loved her, but he had thought of no one else over the past year. She smiled and wiped away a tear that had gotten loose on her cheek.
Desire boiled up in her. She wanted to wake him up and have him make love to her in a rage of passion as they had the previous night, and she would respond with all the pent up desire she had built up for the last months she had known him.
Maggie stroked his hair and gazed at him through tears of love, listening to his regular, slow breathing and feeling her heart fill to the breaking point. She wanted to wake him up, but did not, instead settling for just lying next to him and reveling in his closeness. She laid her head down next to his and closed her eyes.
CHAPTER 33
Dark Rendezvous
Steve Hendrick awoke slowly. His first sensation was one of friction as he tried to move his arm. He popped one eye open and noted that the quilt from the sofa had been thrown over him sometime during the night. He rotated one eye, looking for Maggie but saw only a depression in the cushion where she had rested her head next to his.
He forced the other eye open and looked toward the window. The day was gray with storm clouds, and he could see raindrops on the window with more being added every second. They ran together and formed meandering wet lines down the outside of the windowpane.
Hendrick licked his dry lips and rolled over onto his back, feeling the fatigue that still lingered from the day before. He didn't want to move, but he knew he had to, if for nothing more than to find where Maggie had gone. He pushed the quilt away feeling the cold invade his body, then he stretched and yawned. The smell of toast and bacon suddenly filled the air around him, and he instantly became ravenously hungry. He couldn't remember when he had eaten last - it was probably a fast food hamburger that he had wolfed down yesterday afternoon while on the run in downtown Taipei.
Hendrick pushed open the kitchen door and saw Maggie hovering over a pan filled with scrambled eggs. She turned and smiled at him.
"Oh, you're finally up," she said. "Sit down and eat."
He wasn't about to argue and practically inhaled everything she put in front of him. After gorging himself for ten minutes straight, he eyed her with gratitude. "Thanks," he said while wiping his lips with a napkin.
"So, what's on the agenda today?" she asked.
"I think I'll get the film developed that's still in my camera," he replied.
"Quick then, go shower and shave, and let's go get those pictures developed." She gave him a little push to get him moving.
"All right, all right, don't get a wedgie over it," said Hendrick.
"A wedgie? What's a wedgie?" asked Maggie with a short laugh.
"You have been out of the country for a while, haven't you?" replied Hendrick. "A wedgie is when your panties get up into places where they don't belong."
Maggie laughed out loud. "Oh, is that what you call it?" Her laughter tapered off, and she pushed him again with a broad smile on her face. "Now, go, good Hendrick, and be quick about it."
He stood up and turned to go then looked over his shoulder. "Last night it was Love. Now it's Hendrick," he said with mock wounded feelings.
"Oh, go on," she replied with a grin.
Hendrick spread the pictures out on the kitchen table. Maggie hung over his shoulder to get a look at the pictures he had taken over the last month. She flipped through them, then stopped at one of them and held it up so Hendrick could see it.
"Who's this guy?" she asked.
Hendrick peered at the photo, showing a black and white picture of a man. "Oh, that's a guy who was on Niushan Dao in 1945. He became friendly with the family there, and they took his picture to remember him. He was probably a flier shot down over the Taiwan Strait."
A smile pulled at the corners of Maggie lips. "Not a bad looking man."
"Don't get any ideas," said Hendrick in mock jealousy. "He's got to be in his seventies or eighties by now ... or worse."
"Too bad," replied Maggie with a full smile and a lingering glance at the photo. "What's his name?"
"His name was, uh, let's see - Robert Lindsey, I think," said Hendrick.
Near noontime Hendrick left the house to gather more firewood. The rain had let up, leaving only a fine mist in the air. He walked quickly to a shed a hundred yards to one side of Loh's house, then saw with resignation that he had to split some of the thick logs that were stacked neatly to one side. He split ten logs, piled some of them in his arms and stepped out from under the shed's roof into a steady rain. He pulled his rain hat low over his face and trudged back towards the house. The rainfall matted the leaves and sent rivulets running through the small depressions in the ground.
Hendrick grunted to himself as he looked into the distance through the large window next to the front door. Maggie was walking around the living room with a cellphone in her hand and was having a conversation with someone.
Who could she be talking to? he wondered. His curiosity piqued, he kept to the right side of the house, out of sight, with the idea of eavesdropping on her conversation. He walked quickly and silently to the rear door, silently put the wood down, then slowly opened the door. He tiptoed across the kitchen toward the hall leading to the living room. Hendrick leaned on the wall and cocked an ear down the hallway.
" - Hendrick's not around -" There was a short pause as Maggie listened. "Yes, we're working together on this - know what it is -" Her voice faded as she turned away from the entrance to the hallway. "Where?" came the clear question. Her voice then faded in and out. "Yes, all right - get away somehow." Maggie hung up and walked down the hall to the kitchen. He looked up just as Maggie entered.
"Got some more wood," he said. Maggie nodded then rubbed her arms to show him that she appreciated his effort at wood gathering.
"By the way, who was on the phone just now?" he asked.
"Oh, I don't know. Someone looking for Loh," she said.
Hendrick was stunned at her blatant lie. His mind raced with the possibilities. Maggie was working for someone, but he had no idea whom. He didn't know why, but Maggie's secret, whatever it was, didn't surprise him. A number of little things about her were incongruous, like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that were slightly misshapen and didn't fit snugly together.
The worst possibility was that she was working for Konaka.
After dinner Steve and Maggie sat in front of another cozy fire in the living room, talking about Stalin's letter and what to do with it. The evening wore on, Hendrick's curiosity mounting about how Maggie would make a graceful exit to get away to her clandestine meeting.
Maggie abruptly got up, made an excuse and went to the first floor powder room, leaving Hendrick to stare into the fire. She came back moments later but didn't sit next to him. Instead she started to put on her coat.
"I've got to go to the store in Wulai. Do you want anything?" she asked.
He gazed at her, surprised only at her casual manner. He decided not to let her go easily.
"What do you have to get?" he asked.
A semi-embarrassed smile crossed her face. "Feminine things." She pushed her arms through the sleeves of her coat.
"I'll go with you," he said and started to slowly get up.
"No, you stay here and keep warm. I won't be long," she answered and gave him a smile.
Hendrick sat back down and waved to her as she went out the door. Just like that, he thought. Was I thinking she would make a graceful exit? Her departure was much better than that. It was casual, cool, smooth like a professional. A professional what? He resolved to find out later that night.
He got on all fours to avoid being seen through the living room window and crawled over to the coffee table where the envelope containing Stalin's letter and the photos were lying. He scooped them up and shoved them into an attaché case that he had left on a living room chair. He swiftly donned a jacket and moved down the hall to the kitchen. Seconds later he was outside in the chill night air. The sound of a car's engine turning over spurred him to race to the back of the driveway where Loh kept a dilapidated auto. He had found the keys during the day and had absentmindedly dropped them into his pocket without Maggie's knowledge. He got into the car, threw the attaché case on the front seat, and stayed low in the seat until he saw headlights from Maggie's car swing away and point down the road.
Maggie sped quickly over the steep incline from the end of the driveway to the road, causing the headlights to spray light wildly over the countryside for an instant until the car steadied on the road.
Hendrick peered over the steering wheel and saw that Maggie had gotten far enough down the road to allow him to start moving. He started the car, kept the lights off and swung onto the road to follow her. She slowed at a curve, her brake lights causing the surroundings to glow red for an instant, then she was off again, her foot on the accelerator and the car increasing speed down the quiet country road. He hung back, letting her put some distance between them.
Hendrick turned on his lights to avoid running off the road. He made the curve in the road only to see Maggie's taillights disappear over a rise in the road in the distance. Afraid that she would turn and lose him, he pushed his foot down and felt the car speed up the rise.
He came over the rise and saw Maggie's taillights go down a small dip in the road then up the hill beyond. Her lights disappeared in the distance. Hendrick stepped on the gas.
The road led through an intersection and down a hill along a winding road with Hendrick lingering well behind her. Maggie slowed to a stop at another intersection and looked around in indecision.
Maggie hesitated. Hendrick had no choice but to turn off his headlights and pull off the road. He kept his head low over the steering wheel and prayed that she would not think to look behind her. Maggie looked around then turned right. Hendrick lingered for a moment then followed her.
Maggie went up a hill and pulled off the road near a small temple on the crest of the hill. She turned off her lights, and he could see her leave the car as he pulled off the road at the base of the hill. She was obviously going to meet someone. Maggie disappeared into the temple.
He jumped out of the car and ran up the hill. After cautiously rounding her car, he peered into the small entrance walkway to the temple. The entrance let only a narrow shaft of light through from the security light above the entrance road. The light was meager and shaded by the upturned corners of the roof and its lavishly decorated edges, but it was enough to make out Maggie and her surroundings. Inside the temple in the center of the courtyard was a small wooden building equally lavishly decorated with fanciful dragons. Maggie was standing next to the building, glancing about expectantly.
Out of the shadows came a man in a long overcoat. He briefly shook hands with Maggie, and they started to converse in muted tones.
Hendrick tiptoed the short distance to the temple's entrance, then abruptly gave up the pretense of secrecy and boldly walked through the entrance. The shaft of light was interrupted by his rapidly lengthening shadow as he walked up to them. Maggie and her companion looked toward Hendrick simultaneously. Maggie gave a start, and the man took two steps backward just enough to return his face to the shadows.
"Hendrick!" Maggie exclaimed.
Hendrick walked up until he was five feet from them. "I decided that I needed some masculine things," he said in an acid tone of voice. He looked from Maggie to the man in the shadows and back again. "Now tell me what all this is about," he demanded.
Maggie gave a helpless look to the other man and said nothing. The tension built up until the man's voice came out of the dark.
"You're Steve Hendrick?" asked the man.
"Yes. I suppose it's no secret by this time," Hendrick replied with a withering glance toward Maggie.
The man took a step forward and allowed the light to reach his face. His skin was wrinkled and aged, with gray hair surrounding his head. Hendrick thought the man to be in his eighties.
"I'm Robert Lindsey," he said.
CHAPTER 34
Night Moves
Steve Hendrick stared at the face of the old man in front of him. Robert Lindsey was the man whose picture he had taken from a photo on Niushan Dao. A thousand questions arose, but Hendrick suppressed the whirlwind in his mind and forced himself to ask one question at a time.
"You were on Niushan Dao in 1945?" asked Hendrick.
The old man nodded but didn't speak. Hendrick looked at Maggie. "And why are you here?" he asked.
"Mr. Lindsey called and arranged for us to meet. He apparently has something on his mind," replied Maggie in a steady voice.
He turned back to Lindsey. "Why were you on Niushan Dao?"
"I was shipwrecked," Lindsey replied simply.
The whirlwind sprang up in Hendrick's mind once again and suddenly many of the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "Your ship was the Awa Maru, wasn't it?"
Lindsey hesitated, then nodded. Maggie gave him a look of surprise.
"An American on a Japanese freighter four months before the end of World War Two," stated Hendrick. "What were you? OSS?"
Lindsey gave him a frozen look. Hendrick didn't wait for Lindsey's confirmation and plunged ahead with his best shot at what happened over sixty years ago in the Taiwan Strait.
"The ship was torpedoed and sank with only one survivor known to the world," said Hendrick. "But there were other survivors. You managed to swim to Niushan Dao before the USS Queenfish got over to your area to pick up survivors. And then there was my father."
"You are quite correct," replied Lindsey. "Your father was my partner."
"Why were you on board the Awa Maru?" asked Maggie.
Lindsey sighed and looked at the ground. "A Soviet delegation was on board the Awa Maru, and it was our mission to find out why." He suddenly looked up and gave Hendrick a piercing stare. "That is why I set up this meeting. I want to know what you found on that wreck."
More pieces fell into place in Hendrick's mind as the entire picture on a jigsaw puzzle suddenly becomes clear with the placement of only a few critical pieces.
"I found a skull with a bullet hole in it in the Russian compartment," said Hendrick. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out the bullet he had retrieved from the Awa Maru. He had kept it with him as a sort of good luck charm. He carelessly flipped it to Lindsey who caught it with surprise. "Some of your handiwork, no doubt."
Lindsey looked over the bullet and held it tightly in his hand. "We had a secret hiding place in the engineering spaces where we stayed during daylight hours. At night we searched for the Soviet staterooms. We eventually found them on the night that the ship was torpedoed. We gained entry, thinking that no one was there, but as we began to search the compartment, I heard a noise behind me. I pulled out my sidearm and we grappled with each other. I forced him back on the bed where he had been sleeping and shot him in the head." Lindsey let out a sigh at the memories of so long ago.
"At that moment," Lindsey continued. "The ship shuddered as if hit by a huge fist. I could hear the explosions in sequence as each of the four torpedoes struck the starboard side of the ship. It began to roll to starboard almost immediately. I could hear people screaming." His words tapered off to a whisper as if he were out of breath. He inhaled deeply and continued.
"I spent most of the night in the water. At dawn I found that I was near Niushan Dao and after several hours of swimming I crawled ashore. The Wong family took good care of me, but I spent most of the rest of the war on that island. They took my picture to remember me by, and that is the one you took a photo of. I always meant to go back there, but I never did. It's in Communist hands now, you know." He lapsed into silence.
Hendrick looked at Maggie. "Lindsey called looking for me, but you lied to him and me, so you could be here without me. Why?"
Maggie gritted her teeth and shook her head. "When he said his name, I recognized it as the man who had been on Niushan Dao in 1945. I wanted to find out what he knew."
"Did you tell him?" asked Hendrick.
"No. Do you think it wise?" asked Maggie.
"I think he has a right to know," replied Hendrick. "He nearly lost his life for that information."
Lindsey perked up. "What information? Did you find something on the Awa Maru?"
"First tell me what you did after the war," said Hendrick.
"I can't do that," Lindsey said softly after a moment's hesitation.
"Goodbye, Mr. Lindsey. Nice talking to you," said Hendrick quickly. He turned to go.
"No, wait," said Lindsey in a louder tone of voice.
Hendrick looked at him and could see the struggle within the old man. He suddenly felt sorry for the former OSS agent.
"I lost my best friend on that ship," said Lindsey. "Ed Hendrick had saved my life several times during the war. One person can't get any closer to another than we were. Even though he survived, I only saw him years later after Alzheimers had taken his mind. I've been living my whole life wondering why the Soviets were on that ship." Hendrick said nothing. Lindsey gave in. "I was CIA after the war. So was your father."
"And now?" asked Hendrick.
"I'm retired, but I still keep my hand in," replied Lindsey. "Now that I've broken my oath of secrecy -"
"All right," replied Hendrick and turned back to face him. "The Soviet delegation was going to Japan to offer atomic bombs to the Japanese in order to keep them in the war against the Americans."
"How do you know this?" asked Lindsey, barely concealing his excitement.
"We have a letter signed by Joe Stalin himself making the offer," said Hendrick.
Lindsey's face, tight with strain, softened as he savored the answer to the six decade old question.
"Ah, yes," he mused. "So that's when it all started."
"When what all started?" asked Maggie.
Lindsey hesitated and looked back and forth between the two of them. "You have uncovered only the tip of the most carefully kept secret of the last six decades."
"Only the tip? There's more?" asked Hendrick.
Lindsey nodded. "Perhaps it is time for the secret to come out."
"Tell us," said Maggie.
"You're not going to believe this," began Lindsey and started to reach inside his coat.
Hendrick caught movement in the shadows behind Lindsey. Two men came out from the darkness in the rear entrance to the temple, walked boldly up behind Lindsey, then stopped ten feet away. Hendrick could see the light glint off the guns in their hands. Their gunbarrels appeared unnaturally long. Hendrick knew they had silencers. He slipped his right hand up belt-high and started to reach slowly inside his jacket.
"Stop, Mr. Stephen Hendrick," said a familiar voice with a Russian accent. The man stepped forward into the light. It was Loshak, the SVR agent who stole the bank notes from Hendrick and the sub crew on Itbayat Island. "Put your hands up where I can see them at all times."
Hendrick raised his hands shoulder high. "Is your fascist buddy with you?" he asked disgustedly. He stared into the shadows and made out the outline of Loshak's constant companion, Drukarev.
"Shut up, Hendrick. Now to the business at hand. Now that we are all here, we will discover who has the diplomatic documents which were taken from the Awa Maru," said Loshak.
"What documents are those?" asked Hendrick who tried to put as much sincerity into the simple question as he could.
Loshak sneered at Hendrick's attempt to play innocent. "If we get them, then no one will be hurt."
"Why ask us?" asked Hendrick belligerently. "Why not ask Konaka?"
Loshak's eyes narrowed, the muscles in his face growing taut. Hendrick realized that Maggie's assertion was correct. Loshak and Drukarev really were working for Konaka. Hendrick saw Maggie give him an I-told-you-so glance.
"Why does Konaka want the letter? He already has a copy," said Hendrick. Loshak gave him a grimace and said nothing.
"Maybe it was burned up in the fire on Tung-yin Tao," replied Maggie. "Or maybe he wants to cover up the existence of the letter."
Loshak shifted his aim from the center of Hendrick's chest to Maggie as Drukarev moved slightly to Hendrick's left from ten feet behind Lindsey to get a better aim on Hendrick himself.
"The first one to get hurt will be your girlfriend," said Loshak and stepped forward to emphasize his threat. Hendrick held his breath as Loshak stopped within two feet of Lindsey.
The old OSS agent didn't hesitate. He grabbed Loshak's weapon and immediately shoved the barrel toward the ground. That was all the opening Hendrick needed. His right hand shot toward his belt and the waiting handgun. For the next few seconds Loshak was not a problem as Lindsey struggled with him. Taking out Drukarev was Hendrick's top priority.
Hendrick got the weapon free of his belt before Drukarev took his eyes off the two men fighting over Loshak's weapon. By the time Drukarev saw what was happening, Hendrick had his sights in the SVR agent's vicinity. Hendrick snapped off two quick shots, sending them an inch away from Drukarev's right shoulder. The Russian crouched down and ran back behind the building in the center of the courtyard.
Hendrick took the opportunity to grab Maggie's arm with his left hand and run back through the entrance to the temple. He shoved her around the corner then looked up to see Loshak break free from Lindsey. The Russian agent steadied himself and aimed the gun at Lindsey point blank. In a panic Hendrick brought his weapon up to get off a quick shot at Loshak. The muffled thump from the muzzle of Loshak's gun told him he was a fraction of a second too late. Lindsey gasped and fell over onto the asphalt.
Hendrick fired twice and put both rounds into Loshak's chest, flinging the agent backwards and sending him to the ground. Hendrick turned to Maggie and saw that she was aiming a handgun toward the small building in the center of the courtyard. He crouched next to her.
"I'm going to try to get to Lindsey," said Hendrick. He was out of breath. "Every few seconds fire a shot toward the building to keep the Russian's head down."
Maggie eyed him with outright fear on her face. "Be careful," she said in a wavering voice. Hendrick squeezed her arm then jumped into the entrance and ran toward Lindsey. Maggie's weapon cracked behind him, sending a bullet into the decorated edge of the building. Hendrick gave a worried glance toward the building then toward Loshak who lay perfectly still on the ground.
Hendrick quickly got to Lindsey's side and looked closely at the old man. He was still alive, but Hendrick judged not for long. Hendrick heard something slap into the ground to his right then winced at the shower of particles sent in all directions.
Gunfire! Hendrick got to a crouch and grabbed the lapels of Lindsey's coat. He began to drag him toward Maggie in a feverish attempt to regain cover. A bullet whizzed past Hendrick's ear just as Maggie put another round into the kiosk.
"Let's get to the car!" shouted Hendrick. Maggie got off a few more shots then followed Hendrick who hoisted Lindsey onto his shoulders. Lindsey gave a sudden violent twitch. Hendrick knew Lindsey had stopped another bullet. They got behind Maggie's car, and Hendrick slowly eased Lindsey to the ground. A bullet slammed into the car windshield, blowing a hole in the glass, sending tiny pieces of glass flying into the front seat.
Hendrick examined him with concern. Lindsey had taken Loshak's bullet in the side and a second bullet in the back. Lindsey grabbed the front of Hendrick's shirt and pulled him closer with surprising strength. The dying agent was trying to say something to him. Hendrick put his ear next to Lindsey's lips in an effort to hear him between the cracking of Maggie's weapon.
"Picture -" gasped Lindsey.
Hendrick looked around quickly. They would have to get him into the car as soon as possible. There was no telling how many agents were in the temple with Drukarev.
With shaking hands Lindsey withdrew a thin envelope from his pocket and pressed it into Hendrick's hand. The envelope had a bullet hole in it from Loshak and was stained with Lindsey's blood. The wounded agent tried to say something else but couldn't find the strength. The periodic slap of bullets into the car suddenly increased to a frantic roar, sending pieces of glass showering over the three of them. Maggie ducked behind the car and gave Hendrick a frantic look.
"Steve, we can't stay here!" she shouted over the hysterical shredding of the car next to them. Two tires exploded under the gunfire, and Hendrick began to smell leaking gasoline. The gunfire seemed unnatural with only the impact of the bullets heard, not the actual gunshots themselves. Their assailant was using a silenced weapon.
He looked around to determine any possible escape route. The car he had used was at the bottom of the hill but still in full view of the temple and in Drukarev's field of fire. They would get cut to pieces before they got halfway there.
Hendrick looked back at Lindsey. His head was turned to one side, his eyes were closed, and he was lying very still. Lindsey was dead.
Georgi Bakhtin looked over the battle from his spot on the temple roof with supreme interest. He pulled out a small set of binoculars and gazed through it at the action below. Who were these strangers who were being attacked by Loshak and Drukarev? He hadn't gotten a good look at them. One had been shot by Loshak, but clearly the other two weren't going to just give up and die. Loshak's death at the hands of one of them was even more interesting.
Bakhtin clucked his tongue, a bad habit for a sniper, and brought his rifle up to his shoulder. An opportunity like this doesn't come along very often, he thought as he rested the barrel on a convenient dragon. One clear shot is all I need.
Five seconds, thought Hendrick. Five seconds before one of Drukarev's bullets hits us. He wrapped Maggie in his arms and awaited the inevitable. Drukarev ripped the car in front of them to pieces one section at a time.
Hendrick cringed, pulling Maggie close to him and expecting the car to be ripped apart in seconds, causing the detonation of the remaining gasoline. Suddenly the long bursts from Drukarev's automatic weapon stopped, giving a strange expectancy to the night air. The constant shower of glass stopped, and Hendrick cautiously looked about to see what had given them a reprieve from quick death. Maybe Drukarev was reloading, he thought desperately.
"Time to leave!" he said and leaped to his feet. He didn't have to exert any force on Maggie's arm to keep her near him. She was in step with him all the way. They ran down the hill as a small fire broke out underneath Maggie's shattered car. The fire beneath the car spread quickly, its flames licking greedily at the leaking gasoline from the fuel tank.
The car exploded, sending a fireball thirty feet into the air and a wave of ear shattering sound into the night.
I don't like this business, thought Bakhtin as he winced at the flare of green light in his scope from the car explosion. The light gradually tapered off until he could see once again the glowing outline of a man in his infrared sight. This sniping business is truly distasteful, he complained to himself. But he knew if he held back, he would be turned over to those animals of the FSB, Federal'nyi Sluzhba Bezopasnosti, Russia's internal security agency, which had a specific mandate to attack organized crime and government corruption. Whatever rights the Russian people had with their new democracy disappeared in the arms of the FSB. A lot of his old cronies, who were out of a job when the former KGB was disbanded and made into five separate agencies, got new jobs, once again doing the same things they had been doing in the past. Bakhtin was glad he was in the SVR, Russia's foreign intelligence agency. He never liked internal security work, nor the people who did it.
He thought of the information he had received about Loshak and Drukarev from another intelligence agency and how that information confirmed what he and his organization already suspected. Loshak and Drukarev were traitors to Russia.
Bakhtin centered the scope on the green outline of a man and slowly squeezed off a shot. The silenced rifle made a muffled thump and jumped in his hands. The glowing solid figure, twitched, gave a half turn and fell to the ground. Bakhtin worked the bolt, shoving another round into the chamber. He centered the crosshairs on the round appendage at one end of the prostrate form and put the second bullet into the man's head. Bakhtin stared through the scope, noting the small glowing object that lay near what was left of the man's head. He was sure of one thing - he didn't want to see what it was.
A cold feeling came over Bakhtin as he lay on the roof waiting for his heart to calm down. This man will never trouble the SVR again, he thought. After a few moments he stood up straight, silhouetting himself against the twilight sky. He half turned, then looked back. He thought of the man who had completed half of Bakhtin's mission, the man who had shot Loshak. He waved at the car fleeing into the night.
"Dasvedanya, tovarisch," he said softly.
CHAPTER 35
Betrayal
Steve Hendrick stared at Maggie for a brief moment, but she avoided him with her eyes. They had spent the ride back to Loh's house with a definite chill between them.
There were problems. It was only a matter of time before they traced the destroyed car to him. As a precaution he would report the car stolen. Lindsey's body had been immolated by the car fire, and it would take authorities some time to identify him. Then there was the matter of his and Maggie's spent shell casings all over the temple grounds. And God forbid that there might be an eyewitness. Also Hendrick had thought he had seen Drukarev fall to the ground as they had pulled away from the temple. Did someone kill him? Who would that be?
Hendrick sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace, trying to regain control of his thoughts. He had confronted Maggie, and she had avoided his questions.
He turned his attention to the envelope Lindsey had given him. Inside was a photograph. The photo was old by the look of it, but it had been well preserved. Hendrick looked it over quickly. It showed two large bombs with several men standing around them. The bullet hole from Drukarev was between the two bombs.
"The bombs in Stalin's letter," said Maggie with awe in her voice.
Hendrick began to study the photo in detail. Two Caucasian men were standing in front of two large bombs that were supported by heavy trailers. Three other men were also seen, and they had distinctly Oriental features. None of them were posing for the picture, and Hendrick suddenly realized that the angle from which the picture was taken was wrong for a good shot of the bombs. He pointed it out to Maggie.
"So, an admitted CIA agent leads us to a photo taken long ago, and the people in the picture don't seem to know they were being photographed," said Maggie. "What does that tell you?"
"An intelligence agent took the picture and sent it to the CIA," said Hendrick. "But where was this picture taken?" He turned the photo over and glanced at a piece of tape on the back with some sort of file number written on it. Bureaucrats have to number everything, thought Hendrick. He looked the photograph over again carefully, and in handling it he felt the tape on the back of the photo slide a little. He pulled on the tape. It had dried out over the years and flaked off easily, revealing some Japanese, or perhaps Chinese characters, written in blue ink and the year 1953 written in black ink. Someone had written the year after the Asian characters were written.
"Nineteen fifty-three," mused Hendrick to himself. "The year Stalin died."
Hendrick handed the photo over so that Maggie could see the back. "You know Japanese and Chinese. Any idea what this means?" He pointed to the Oriental characters written on the back of the photo. The characters were written neatly with what he thought to be a fountain pen.
Maggie looked at the characters then shrugged. "I don't know."
Hendrick gave her a long look which conveyed disbelief.
"Do you have any idea how many Japanese characters there are?" asked Maggie in an annoyed tone. "Thousands!"
Hendrick shook his head in frustration.
"How do we know that they're atomic bombs?" asked Maggie to change the subject.
"They're atomic bombs. They have to be. Conventional bombs weren't that big," muttered Hendrick as he picked up the photo to examine it once again. "There's some Cyrillic lettering on one of the bombs, so they're Russian all right." He lapsed into silence for a moment.
"I think this picture was taken in Japan in 1953," he said slowly. His mind formed a stunning conclusion, one that was so shocking that he hesitated to give voice to it. He looked at Maggie, his mouth hanging open in amazement. "I think the Soviet Union actually did deliver two atomic bombs to the Japanese!"
Maggie looked at him in amazement. "They've had them all these years?"
"Stalin was known in his last days to be tired, very old, and even more paranoid than he had ever been previously," said Hendrick. "So he took a chance to get some of his old enemies at war with one another again. World War Two was a very recent memory in 1953. Japan was still devastated by American bombs, and Stalin thought that the Japanese hated Americans for what we had done to their country. So he gave them the means to get even."
"But the Japanese never dropped them on us," said Maggie.
"No, they never did," answered Hendrick. "That shows what a colossal blunder this was for Stalin in his final days. The Russians view the Japanese as their historical enemies, and they could never have been sure that the Japanese wouldn't use the bombs against the Russians themselves. The Russian people would be horrified to learn of this scheme. Should the Japanese have used the bombs on the U.S., and the Americans find out the origin of the bombs, then the U.S. would have attacked the Soviet Union with nuclear weapons. The Russians were trying to avoid a war with the United States at that time, not start one."
"One of Konaka's men was surprised by the contents of Stalin's letter," said Maggie. "It seemed that he knew what Hidden Sun was all about."
"Konaka had said 'You have given me Japan.' What do you think he meant?" asked Hendrick.
Maggie shrugged then sat down in a chair across from Hendrick. She lapsed into thought for a long moment. "This is all pretty heavy duty stuff. It's going to take some time to absorb it all." She smiled thinly. "Is there anything we can eat? I'm hungry."
Hendrick got to his feet. "Okay, I'll see what left in the kitchen." He walked down the hall toward the kitchen, had another thought and went back to the living room.
"You know, I just -" He stopped abruptly when he saw Maggie with her coat on. She was stuffing the photo of the bombs into her handbag.
She looked up at him and a flash of guilt ran across her face. It was replaced an instant later with defiance.
Now I know, he thought savagely. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his handgun, quickly lining up the sights on Maggie. She pulled her weapon out at the same time and pointed it at his head. Her aim wavered for a moment, then steadied. The lines in her face grew taut with determination.
"Don't try to stop me, Hendrick," she growled at him. "I didn't want it to come to this, but I made a commitment years ago, and I'm going to honor it. You were right. The Japanese have two Russian atomic bombs in their possession. The Japanese characters on the back of Lindsey's photo were the location where it was taken. Yokosuka, Japan, 1953. The Japanese government doesn't want this to go public. They want Stalin's letter and this photo. And I'm going to give it to them."
They both stood immobile for what seemed like an eternity. Hendrick slowly lowered his weapon. He knew that whatever Maggie would do, he could never pull the trigger.
"Give me the letter," she ordered.
Since the confrontation with Loshak and Drukarev, he had taken it everywhere he went. Hendrick slowly pulled the envelope containing the letter from his attaché case. He held it for a second, then dropped it on the floor.
Maggie picked up the envelope, slid the letter halfway out to confirm that it was indeed Stalin's letter, then carefully placed it in her pocketbook. She lowered her weapon and walked over to the front door poised for her exit into the night.
"I owe them, Hendrick," she said in a low voice. "I owe them."
"Who? The SVR, or Konaka?" Hendrick spat out.
Maggie's normally controlled expression began to break into emotion. "Two of them died for me," she said in a wavering voice.
Hendrick gave her a hard look, refusing to understand. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Chang and his men! They rescued me from Chang!" said Maggie.
"Chang? What does he have to do with this?" demanded Hendrick.
"Did you believe that bullshit I told you about getting the warlord who bought me drunk, then escaping from all of them?" cried Maggie.
Hendrick's mouth slowly opened in dismay.
"They came on in a rush, dressed like ninjas, and they were the most beautiful sight I had ever seen in my life," sobbed Maggie. "They rescued me, and now I'm going to pay them back. Two of them died, Hendrick. Two of them died for me." She turned to go.
"Who are they? Who do you work for?" asked Hendrick in a hoarse voice.
Maggie stopped and half turned, looking at him with glistening eyes.
"The Naicho," she said, pronouncing the word for "inside agency" perfectly. "Japanese Foreign Intelligence."
The swirling of events and morbid thoughts continued long into the night as Hendrick sat, sipping some of Loh's Napoleon brandy in front of the fireplace.
The woman he loved had suddenly betrayed him at the basest level. Maybe he had seen it coming with her secret phone call and her clandestine meeting with Lindsey.
But it was the deception that hurt him the most. She had never seen fit to tell him whom she was working for. What a fool he had been. He should have known that the Japanese had wanted to find out what he had found on the Awa Maru. They had a secret on board just as much as the Russians. What would the world think if it knew that the Japanese actually were in possession of two Russian atomic bombs? That would be very embarrassing indeed.
It was clear that Maggie had told the Japanese of Stalin's letter, and she had received orders to steal it. She also knew that they would want the photo of the bombs as well. The Japanese, as well as the Russians, would want to suppress the letter and the picture. The Japanese government had engendered sympathy as the only nation who had suffered a nuclear attack, and they would not want that sympathy lessened in any way.
So that was it then. But how many people had died, all just to keep a six decade old secret from becoming known?
Hendrick shook his head and took a large gulp of the brandy, feeling it attack his throat in a coarse, stinging manner, then warm his insides as it trickled down to his stomach. The fire in front of him blurred a bit then went back into focus as he blinked his eyes quickly to clear them. He was exhausted after the battles of the last few days.
His eyelids grew heavy as he felt the warmth of the fire seep into him. He had all the lights turned off, and the living room was lit by the flickering glow from the fireplace. Hendrick's eyes closed as weariness swept over him.
A knock on the doorframe sounded softly against the crackling of the fire, Hendrick only realizing that there was someone at the front door after the third knock. He picked his head up, dragged open his eyes and looked around. The knock sounded again, this time more insistent, and his breath caught in his throat.
"Maggie," he mumbled to himself, and stumbled to his feet. He hurried to the front door, squinting through the glass to see who was there. He saw with disappointment that it was a man. Hendrick slowly opened the door.
"Hello, Mr. Hendrick," said Georgi Bakhtin with a cautious smile on his face.
Hendrick stared at him. "What now?" he asked himself. "Who are you?"
"My name is Georgi Bakhtin," said the man. The name meant nothing to Steve. "I thought you might like to know how this whole adventure will end." His English was quite good with a minimal accent.
Why not? Hendrick thought. This guy seems harmless enough, and I'm as curious as anyone. He stepped aside and let the SVR agent into the house. They both settled in the living room. Bakhtin put the brief case he was carrying on the floor next to him. Hendrick looked at Bakhtin expectantly.
Bakhtin eyed the American and his smile faded. "Two of my men were killed last night at a temple near here."
Uh, oh, thought Hendrick. "You're SVR then?" Bakhtin's features were immutable. "Loshak and Drukarev were working for Konaka."
"How do you know this?" asked Bakhtin.
"They admitted it last night just before I put two bullets into Loshak," said Hendrick.
"I see," said Bakhtin.
Hendrick got the distinct impression that Bakhtin already knew. "Someone else put a couple of slugs into Drukarev. Was that you?"
Bakhtin smiled and shrugged to himself. "Yes. I am unaccustomed to anyone doing my job for me, especially anything so distasteful as eliminating someone." He nodded to Hendrick. "Spasiba, tovarisch."
"You were supposed to kill them both?" asked Hendrick incredulously. "Why?"
"You said it yourself. They were working for Konaka," replied Bakhtin.
"How did you know that?" asked Hendrick. "Were you told by Japanese intelligence?"
Bakhtin's eyebrows went up in surprise. Hendrick nodded to himself. Maggie had told her employers, the Naicho, and they in turn had told the SVR.
Bakhtin hesitated, then gave Hendrick a meaningful look. He picked up his brief case, popped it open and pulled out a short object. Hendrick stared at it in amazement. It was the cylinder from the Awa Maru that had contained Stalin's letter. The sides had the remnants of soot from the burning buildings on Konaka's island.
"You know what this is," said Bakhtin. It wasn't a question.
Hendrick nodded. "How did you come by it?"
"The Taiwanese covert team that landed on the island of Tung-yin Tao after your battle with Konaka asked me what it was and what might have been in it," Bakhtin replied. "They picked it out of a burned-out building. I told them that it was nothing of consequence." He had an intense expression on his face. "What was in it?"
Hendrick thought it over briefly and decided that there was no harm in telling the Russian the truth. He stood and walked over to his attaché case. He pulled out the translation of Stalin's letter, handing it to Bakhtin. The Russian read it quickly, his mouth opening as he got halfway through.
"There were two copies of this letter in the cylinder, one in Russian and one in Japanese," said Hendrick in anticipation of Bakhtin's next question.
"Where are the originals?" asked Bakhtin.
"The Japanese version was either burned up in the fire, or Konaka still has it," replied Hendrick.
"And the Russian version?" asked Bakhtin.
"I lost it," Hendrick said, surprising himself at his protection of Maggie.
"Konaka has read this letter?" asked Bakhtin in a rush. Hendrick nodded. The Russian agent thought for a moment, then leaned forward to lend importance to what he was going to say.
"Stalin actually shipped two atomic bombs to Japan," said Bakhtin.
"Yes, I know," said Hendrick.
Bakhtin was clearly surprised. "How do you know this?"
"I came across a picture showing the bombs in the hands of the Japanese," replied Hendrick.
"Where did you get this picture?" demanded Bakhtin.
"Robert Lindsey gave it to me. He's the one shot by Loshak," replied Hendrick.
"Yes, we know of him," said Bakhtin. "Let me see the picture."
"I lost that too," answered Hendrick. Bakhtin twisted his mouth in disbelief. "I have a question for you," continued Hendrick. "Why did Stalin give atomic bombs to Japan?"
Bakhtin shook his head to convey the difficulty of an accurate answer. "I have some people working on that question now. The best they've come up with is that Berlin remained a contentious point between the U.S. and the Soviet Union. The Soviets wanted the U.S. out of Berlin and the U.S. refused to go. We nearly went to war over it a few times. Stalin must have thought that a nuclear-armed Japan would distract the U.S. so that he could make some sort of move against Berlin. After the bombs were in Japanese custody, it was leaked to the CIA that the Japanese had them. When confronted, the Japanese denied having them.
"Stalin died right after the delivery, so whatever moves he would have made to go along with the bomb delivery died with him. Maybe he also thought that two relatively old atomic bombs weren't worth much in light of their almost completed development of the H-bomb. He apparently was quite irrational toward the end."
"The Japanese still have these bombs?" asked Hendrick.
Bakhtin nodded. "There is going to be an economic summit in Tokyo next week where the leaders of the top economic nations and their economic advisors will discuss policy. The Japanese government is worried that revealing the contents of this letter or their possession of the bombs will make headlines during this summit. To avoid any embarrassment to the governments of Russia and Japan, the Japanese have agreed to ship the bombs back to Russia for disposal, so that at least the Japanese can say that they are no longer in possession of any nuclear weapons. And so you see that the entire situation has come full circle."
"Good, that will be the end of it," replied Hendrick. "You knew about the letter all the time then."
"For the last twenty-four hours," replied Bakhtin. "The Japanese as well. It may seem unlikely, but the intelligence services of Japan and Russia do talk to one another now and then." He looked at the letter once again. "But to see it written out in Stalin's very own words - It is amazing." He gave Hendrick a quick smile. "You made quite a mess of Konaka's operation on Tung-yin Tao," he added. There was admiration in his voice.
"He had a lot of explosives on the island, and pretty bad security," explained Hendrick. "By the way, did that covert team that landed on Konaka's island find any gold?"
Bakhtin's eyebrows went up. "Ah, the other treasure that you recovered from the Awa Maru." He shook his head. "They found no gold."
Hendrick gave him a rueful smile. "I knew I couldn't get that lucky."
Bakhtin gave Hendrick a close look. "When you were on Konaka's island did you go inside any of the buildings?" asked Bakhtin.
"Briefly inside a couple of the buildings. Why do you ask?" asked Hendrick in a puzzled tone.
"Do you know what a gamma ray spectrometer is?" asked Bakhtin.
"Isn't it a device to detect gamma rays?" returned Hendrick.
"Yes, and Konaka apparently took possession of one of those devices about a year ago. I was wondering if you had seen anything that could be such a device."
Hendrick thought for a moment. "A terrorist with a gamma ray spectrometer. So he's looking for nuclear material. The question is: what or who is he going to nuke?" He lapsed back into thought. "One of his men seemed to know what Hidden Sun was. After reading Stalin's letter, Konaka said that I had given him Japan." The conclusion roared through Hendrick's mind. He began to explain. "Konaka is going to steal the two atomic bombs! One of his men must know where they are." Hendrick had another thought. "He'll probably try to steal the bombs when they're shipped back to Russia. Think of how much damage the bombs will do if detonated in a major city."
"But the bombs won't detonate," reminded Bakhtin. "The nuclear material in the detonators will have decayed by now."
"They don't have to detonate the bombs to be a threat," said Hendrick. "He could use the plutonium to poison the drinking water of major cities all around the world."
Bakhtin thought for several moments. Hendrick kept quiet, knowing that the SVR agent had to sort things out in his mind. The Russian leaned back in his chair and looked extremely worried. "The Japanese government has decided to take a low key approach to this shipment with minimal visible security."
"How is the shipment to take place?" asked Hendrick.
Bakhtin thought for a moment, then judged that it was harmless to tell Hendrick. "A freighter will sail from Yokosuka with the bombs to Vladivostok. It will be shadowed by a Japanese destroyer. The Russian navy will be waiting outside Vladivostok to escort the ship to its final destination."
"Konaka will try to hijack it on the high seas. That's his style," said Hendrick with certainty. The memory of Konaka's boarding of his ship in the Taiwan Strait ran through his mind.
Bakhtin suddenly stood and looked down at Hendrick with determination on his face. "We have work to do."
"We?" asked Hendrick.
"You are coming with me," Bakhtin said. "If you are right about all this, then you will receive the undying gratitude of the Russian government for fighting side-by-side with the Sluzhba. But if you are lying, then there still is the matter of the bank notes that disappeared from the Russian finance minister's office."
Hendrick was surprised that Bakhtin knew about the bank notes. Then he realized that his two wayward subordinates, Loshak and Drukarev, must have told him about it. He wondered about the fate of Finance Minister Gradov with whom he had conspired to liquidate the bank notes.
Hendrick took a sudden look around. Two large men stood silently behind his sofa. His heart sank. He berated himself. He should have known that Bakhtin wouldn't have come alone.
"The house is surrounded by my men," said Bakhtin quietly.
Hendrick decided to make the best of it. He stood and looked him square in the eye. "All right. It's a deal." A thought struck him. But how would Bakhtin react? He excused himself to pack a small bag and went upstairs. Bakhtin let him go, confident that there was no way for Hendrick to escape.
He went to his bedroom and tried to ignore his continuing thoughts of Maggie. Would he ever see her again? He shoved her out of his mind and concentrated on the job at hand. He and Bakhtin had to try to stop Konaka. But first there was something he had to do. He walked over to a nightstand and picked up the phone. He had to call a new-found friend.
For insurance.
CHAPTER 36
The Transfer
Maggie Ramsey scanned the horizon with binoculars for the hundredth time since leaving the port of Yokosuka on the eastern coast of Japan. She twisted all the way around while leaning against the port bridge wing's railing and faced south toward O Shima Island, then turned farther to look back along their wake. She could just make out the destroyer the Japanese Navy had supplied as an escort for the eleven hundred mile trip to Vladivostok.
The Akita Maru, a relatively old freighter in the Japanese merchant marine, throbbed below her feet as it noisily made its way through the choppy waters of the Western Pacific. They had been underway for three hours now at a speed of twenty knots. Only one thousand and forty miles to go, thought Maggie as she pulled her foul weather jacket closer around her body to keep out the increasingly chilly wind off the water. The sun was high in the sky but provided little heat. In spite of a bright sun she saw a gloom over the large Japanese island of Honshu. She could see the outline of the destroyer contrasting with the backdrop of the darker island.
The Japanese government, along with the military and the intelligence agencies, had been informed of a possible attempt to steal their extremely valuable cargo by the international terrorist Masaya Konaka. The Japanese government, however, still didn't back away from their desire to keep the transfer of the Soviet atomic bombs as low key as possible. They had sent out another destroyer ahead of them, escorting a ship, which was actually a decoy. And behind them was the second destroyer escorting another decoy ship. Between the two sets of ships was the Akita Maru with the real atomic bombs on board and with no nearby escort.
The Japanese government had put a platoon of very tough looking armed sailors on the Akita Maru. Maggie glanced at her watch. Even now the sailors were going through some sort of drill after training all morning, setting up gun emplacements, and practicing a repel boarders drill.
The Soviet atomic bombs, or what was left of them after being dismantled by Japanese nuclear engineers, were locked securely in two large containers. Maggie had heard that there wasn't much shielding in them to contain the radiation from the thirty or so pounds of radioactive material in each case. The ship's crew had been warned to stay away from their unusual cargo. The containers had been loaded into the number two hold amidships only minutes after they had arrived from their storage facility in Yokosuka. Shortly after the containers were loaded, the ship set sail along the east coast of Japan toward its destination in Russia, Vladivostok. Japanese authorities wanted no delay in getting the transfer underway.
"So we are on our way, making history," said a voice in Japanese over her shoulder.
Maggie glanced back and eyed her superior, Junji Takahata, of the Naicho, Japanese Foreign Intelligence.
"Yes, making history," mused Maggie. "But why am I making history with you?" She had been wondering why she was told to accompany the bombs back to Russia.
Takahata glanced at her without expression. "If these reports of attempted theft of this cargo are correct, then we need someone who can positively identify these terrorists. And you can identify this man Konaka and some of the men working with him."
Maggie shrugged in resignation. "But do I need all this?" She held up the Mini-Uzi machine gun and clip belt that was slung across her right hip, and touched the handgun she had in a shoulder holster under her left arm.
"Your record indicates that you are qualified with these weapons," replied Takahata, "and this is one situation where you might have to use them." He gave her a close look with half closed eyes. "You have performed with exceptional bravery up until now. I would not like to see that change." He had the beginnings of a smile on his face.
From Takahata this was high praise indeed, thought Maggie. He normally never said anything that even hinted at a compliment for his subordinates. Maggie looked Takahata over quickly and noted that he had the same weaponry on him.
Junji Takahata was the head of a new and relatively small department in the Naicho. Takahata's department was the equivalent of covert operations departments in intelligence agencies around the globe. The Naicho, called the Cabinet Research Office and which reported to the Prime Minister, was small itself, only about two hundred members, and was dedicated to intelligence assessment. Recently with Takahata's urging, a covert action staff was assembled. Maggie Ramsey was the only non-Japanese and the only female member of the department. Their number had decreased to eighteen after Maggie's rescue from Chang. Two of their agents had been killed in the rescue operation, a fact which left Maggie feeling guilty and which insured her loyalty to the department's members.
Takahata's attention was suddenly riveted on something in the distance. Maggie turned and saw a glint of rotor blades near the horizon. She immediately raised her binoculars as the announcement was made by the lookouts over the public address system that an aircraft was approaching from the northwest.
A helicopter swung shakily into view in her fieldglasses. It looked large and powerful, and it was coming on fast. Maggie thought of her superior next to her and offered him the binoculars. He took them with a serious expression on his face and gazed steadily through them. Maggie glanced around at the sailors who were deploying about the ship brandishing an array of weapons. She saw one man crouching down behind the aft gunwale with a large tubular structure on his shoulder. She recognized it as a Stinger, a shoulder-fired, heat-seeking missile used to shoot down aircraft. He pointed the Stinger at the oncoming aircraft. Maggie relaxed. If the oncoming helicopter tried to attack, the Stinger would blow them out of the sky in seconds. She nodded imperceptibly to herself. The Japanese had thought of everything.
Takahata was called away by one of the bridge crew and returned moments later in a more relaxed mood. "We are getting some visitors."
"Who?" asked Maggie.
"You'll see in a few minutes," said Takahata. "I believe you know them."
Maggie's curiosity was piqued, and she asked Takahata once again who they were, but he wouldn't say. Takahata enjoyed surprises and being mysterious, much to his subordinates' annoyance, especially Maggie, who disliked that sort of game but was forced to play it herself in the intelligence business. She looked the helicopter over again, noting that there were no markings on its fuselage.
The helicopter came on without hesitation in spite of the weapons trained on it by the Japanese sailors. The helo tilted back to decrease forward velocity then hovered over the helo deck, which was aft of the ship's superstructure. Seconds later the helicopter touched down on the deck. A half dozen men spilled out carrying small automatic weapons, crouching low against the rotor blast while making their way toward the bridge. Maggie looked them over, squinting against the torrent from the rotors but was unable to identify any of them in the distance.
"Come," said Takahata to Maggie. "Let us greet our guests."
They went down two decks to the helo deck, through a hatch and into what they humorously called the lounge, a bare walled room with paint peeling in several places and with one table and several chairs in the center. The six men from the helicopter entered through a door in the opposite wall of the room. Maggie looked them over one by one as they entered. They were all Caucasians, Russians by the looks of them. She didn't know any of them.
Georgi Bakhtin was the next to last man to enter. His eyes fixed on Maggie and gave her a smile.
"Miss Ramsey, I presume," said the SVR agent.
Maggie didn't respond, her eyes rushing to the last man to enter, her heart speeding up without knowing why. Steve Hendrick entered the room, looked about quickly and ended up staring at Maggie.
"I didn't know you were going to be here," he said lamely.
Maggie returned his stare for a moment, then turned to Takahata. "Why is he here?" she asked in Japanese.
"You are surprised?" asked Takahata. Maggie clenched her teeth and gave him a dirty look. Takahata decided he had better answer the question. "He was invited along by our invited guests." Takahata gestured in the direction of the Russians.
Maggie turned to Bakhtin. "Why him?" she demanded as she pointed to Hendrick.
Bakhtin gave Hendrick an amused glance. "He has told us a very wild story about a terrorist who wants what is on this ship."
She looked Hendrick over once again and noted that he had no weapons as the others had. "So why bring Hendrick?"
"He can positively identify all the principals in this scheme to steal this cargo, if it really is a scheme," replied Bakhtin. "If it is not, and it is just a story, then he will have to answer for some things in Russia."
Maggie frowned. "What things?" Hendrick looked like he was sweating.
"There is a question of some bank notes which were stolen from Russia," continued Bakhtin. "Our former finance minister, Valentin Gradov, had left Russia for Switzerland with a great deal of these bank notes after giving me a story that the notes were no longer worth anything. Some checking by our agents with financial contacts in the United States proved otherwise." He gave Hendrick a short smile.
Hendrick gave Maggie a look of total innocence.
"We have recovered Gradov and his share of the bank notes which was approximately half the total worth of four million U.S. dollars," said Bakhtin. "Now there's the matter of the other half that we haven't recovered."
Hendrick looked at him in annoyance. "Those bank notes are rightfully mine. They were stolen from me by your two lackeys, Loshak and Drukarev."
"Where did these bank notes come from?" asked Maggie, now completely intrigued.
"They were recovered from the Awa Maru," said Hendrick.
Maggie gave Hendrick a look of disgust mixed with awe and respect. "You're just a surprise a minute, aren't you? And when were you going to tell me about the bank notes?"
"I told you about Stalin's letter and look what it got me," replied Hendrick in anger.
She tried to hold his stare, but her gaze wavered and fell. There was no defense for what she had done. She had the choice to be loyal to Hendrick, or betray him to keep a commitment to the Naicho who had saved her from Chang. She unconsciously moved closer to Takahata. She had made her choice, and there was no undoing it.
Maggie's eyes wandered aimlessly for a few moments until they fell on the Russians' armament. They each had nine-millimeter Makarov handguns in belt holsters and small submachine guns similar to the Naicho, but they were Russian made, nicknamed Kedr, the equivalent of the Mini-Uzi's the Naicho carried. The Kedr submachine guns used the same rounds as the Makarov handguns.
Maggie noticed that Bakhtin's pants leg had caught on the top of one of his boots exposing the butt end of a knife.
"It's nice to see that you and your men are well armed," she said. "Even to daggers in the shoes." She gestured to his boots.
Bakhtin gave her an embarrassed glance and pulled his pant leg up slightly then let it go to cover the top of his boot.
"The Russian firing knife, no doubt," said Takahata. "It fires a seven point six two millimeter special round from the butt of the knife. It is very useful for the line of business we are in, eh, Comrade Bakhtin?"
Bakhtin, who was clearly annoyed that anyone had seen the knife, nodded reluctantly.
"Now to the business at hand," said Bakhtin to take control of the conversation. "I need to know exactly what state these articles are in." A smallish man at the rear of the Japanese entourage spoke up.
"The packages consist of the entire bomb, but with the fuzes removed, so they have been completely safed," said Yasuo Namiki, the nuclear engineer responsible for the technical aspects of the bomb transfer.
"They had fuzes in them?" asked Hendrick in an incredulous tone. They all looked at him. "Materials in the bombs will decay so that an old bomb won't detonate. The plutonium or uranium will still be potent, but the other radioactive materials would be dead after sixty years. So why have a fuze in them?"
"You are correct about the radioactive materials. Polonium will -" began Namiki.
He was interrupted by a curt phrase in Japanese from Takahata. Namiki got a chastened look on his face and clamped his mouth shut.
"Well, Steve, you have stumbled upon one of the most closely kept secrets in the Japanese government for the last six decades," said Bakhtin. "Since our talk back in Taiwan, I have discovered that the Japanese kept the bombs active by replacing critical materials as they decayed. These bombs were able to detonate up until yesterday when they removed the fuzes."
Hendrick's mouth popped open in surprise. "Why?"
"For insurance. What else?" said Bakhtin. "It is rather ironic that a country that has continually condemned the use of nuclear weapons, and is itself the only country to suffer nuclear weapon attack has two nuclear weapons at its disposal." He gave an amused look to Takahata.
The Naicho leader gritted his teeth and said nothing. The ship's public address system came alive with a short announcement in Japanese. Hendrick caught the name Takahata but nothing else.
"I am needed on the bridge," Takahata said stiffly. He turned and left quickly. Bakhtin started to deploy his men, and Maggie followed Takahata. Hendrick, with nothing to do, tagged along after Maggie.
"Surprised to see me?" asked Hendrick.
Maggie glanced over her shoulder. "Yes. You have a habit of popping up when you're least expected."
They exited a doorway onto a weather deck and headed for the ladder that led up to the bridge. Hendrick suddenly reached out and grabbed Maggie by the arm. He turned her toward him.
"You were sent by the Naicho to spy on me in the Taiwan Strait, weren't you?" he demanded. She winced. "All that crap about taking a sailing ship to Taiwan was bullshit too."
"The Japanese government knew what was on board the Awa Maru and didn't want Stalin's letter to become known," explained Maggie. She yanked her arm loose from Hendrick's grip. "We were on an oceanographic research vessel to see if you had actually found the Awa Maru, but we were caught in a storm and capsized. The rest was true."
"If you wanted to play spook, why didn't you join the CIA?" asked Hendrick.
"My stepfather is the head of the DIH," replied Maggie.
"DIH?" asked Hendrick.
"The Defense Intelligence Headquarters was created some years ago to upgrade Japanese intelligence analysis. He recruited me," said Maggie. "He thought I would make the ideal agent. He knew no one would think that I would work for the Japanese."
"So you joined the Naicho to get approval from your stepfather," said Hendrick.
Maggie's face froze. She turned away slowly. "No, it was for my mother. I thought I'd fit in better if I -"
"Was it so important to give the letter and Lindsey's picture to your friends here?" Hendrick gestured angrily up the ladder.
"Yes, it was important. It was important for me to keep a commitment that I had made. Maybe you wouldn't know about anything like that. They rescued me from Chang. I owed them." Maggie turned and ran up the ladder.
Hendrick clenched his teeth and followed her.
When they entered the bridge, they could see Takahata in earnest conversation with the ship's captain, Fumio Ohsawa.
"I showed up at Chang's headquarters a couple of days too late, I guess," muttered Hendrick into Maggie's ear.
"Oh, Steve," she mumbled in frustration. Hendrick started to say something else, but Maggie had her attention focused on Takahata and the captain and waved him to be quiet. Hendrick stopped in midsentence and looked at Takahata.
"A commercial freighter has gone dead in the water ahead of us, and they said that they're sinking," relayed Maggie in a breathless tone. "They're asking for our help, and the captain wants to stop, but Takahata ordered him to keep going."
Hendrick nodded. "It could be a trap."
"It could be a sinking ship," Maggie shot back.
Their eyes went to the ship in the distance, a degree off the starboard bow. A signal light blinked on and off in intermittent rhythm. Maggie continued with her translation of the conversation on the bridge.
"They've lost power, and their radios are out," she said in an undertone.
"Of course. They don't want anyone else to hear them," said Hendrick. He had no idea whether he was right in his assessment that it was a trap, but he felt compelled to disagree with Maggie out of stubbornness.
"Ships can lose power, you know," answered Maggie.
"They don't have any batteries on board for their portable radios?" asked Hendrick.
Maggie hated to admit it, but Hendrick's remarks got her worried. Why were they in trouble here? Why now? Was it too much of a coincidence?
"We have a positive indication," said the console operator. He glanced over his shoulder at the two men standing next to the gamma ray spectrometer. In spite of the distance between the spectrometer and the nuclear weapons, the sensitive instrument had detected gamma rays emanating from the ship that rapidly approached them.
Masaya Konaka stood impassively as his plan unfolded. A subordinate, Ken-Ichi Murata shot an admiring look toward his leader. He nodded slowly, then with increased vigor.
"This is working out as planned, Konaka-san," said Murata.
"We were fortunate that you knew the location of the top secret project called Hidden Sun," replied Konaka. "Then when our colleagues in the government informed us about the bomb transfer, the plan came together quickly. It was child's play to pick out which ship leaving Yokosuka actually had the bombs on board."
The two men walked out of the room to the weather deck, with Murata deferentially walking behind Konaka who climbed the ladder to the bridge. On the bridge, Konaka gave orders to ready his helicopter, then they picked up binoculars and studied the approaching ship, the Akita Maru.
"Do you think they will stop?" asked Murata.
"I would not if I were them," replied Konaka, a smile tugging at his taut face.
CHAPTER 37
Pulse and Gas
All eyes on the bridge of the Akita Maru strained to pick out details of what was happening on the ship that was now only two miles away and two degrees off their starboard bow.
"Helicopter lifting off!" said Maggie as she stared through her binoculars. She lowered them briefly to glance at the ship's captain who was radioing the warship following miles behind them.
The mystery ship was built similarly to the Akita Maru with a helicopter deck aft of the superstructure. It appeared to be a container ship with a full load of containers on deck. The air above the single stack was clear, no smoke visible. The ship was clearly dead in the water. It also appeared to be taking on a slight list.
The large white helicopter came straight at them at high speed, covering the distance between them in less than a minute. The shouted orders of the Japanese sailors filled the air around the ship as they got ready to fend off what might be an attack.
Takahata's walkie-talkie crackled with a report from the naval commander. Takahata told them to wait for his order to open fire. He eyed the helicopter closely to assess the threat. It was a commercial type, but relatively large with what looked to be a cargo area behind the passenger compartment.
One of Takahata's men immediately got on the ship's radio and attempted to warn the helicopter off, but repeated messages were ignored by the helicopter crew. Suddenly the ship's radio came alive with a message from the helicopter. Maggie translated for Hendrick.
"They have a casualty on board and want to land to transfer him to us so we can administer first aid. Apparently a boiler exploded," said Maggie in a hushed voice.
"I don't believe them. Not for a second," said Hendrick. He turned to Takahata. "It's Konaka! Blow the damn thing out of the sky!"
Takahata gave him a sharp look, trying to stifle his indecision. He told the radio operator to keep ordering the helicopter away. The helicopter got within two hundred yards of the ship then turned and ran down the length of the freighter. All eyes followed the aircraft as it passed by the stern then swung wide of the ship and took up a station five hundred yards off the starboard quarter.
"What the hell was all that about?" asked Hendrick under his breath. Maggie shook her head slowly. "Did you see that strange oblong thing on the underside of the fuselage? It looked like a satellite dish that was stretched out of shape."
"An antenna of some kind?" offered Maggie.
An excited voice came from one of the bridge crew. Maggie walked over to the radar repeater display, as did Takahata and the ship's captain. They all stared at it.
"Everything has disappeared from the radar!" exclaimed Maggie.
Hendrick whirled and looked at the bridge instruments. The GPS receiver display had gone blank. The radio operator had a frustrated look on his face as he pushed buttons quickly on the radio's front panel. Hendrick knew the radio was out as well.
"Takahata! Tell your men to shoot down that helicopter! Now!" shouted Hendrick. The Naicho leader just shook his head without looking at the American. Hendrick took a step toward him and grabbed his arm.
"Konaka has blown out all the electronics on the ship! Shoot him down!" Hendrick shouted. He gestured quickly toward the radio and the GPS receiver.
Takahata looked about in disbelief. He yanked his arm free from Hendrick and reached for his walkie-talkie. He keyed the transmitter and gave a guttural order, then let the transmit button go and waited for the reply. None came. Takahata tried twice more, then gave Hendrick a look near panic.
"They can't hear you. Their receivers are blown out," said Hendrick. The full magnitude of the electronic attack on the ship suddenly became apparent. No radios, and no contact with the shadowing warship. He had a second thought. The ship's captain, Fumio Ohsawa, had sent a message to the destroyer about the ship that was dead in the water. Now that contact was lost, the destroyer would assume the worst and come on the run.
Maggie ran out to the starboard bridge wing, shouting in Japanese to shoot down the helo. Hendrick went to a window and watched the sailors set up to fire on Konaka's aircraft. He heard Maggie gasp in disbelief and looked in her direction. She was looking forward toward Konaka's ship.
A very large helicopter was hovering over the ship. Below it was the cavernous opening in the top of what had looked to be separate containers but were actually one very large hangar that had concealed the now hovering helicopter. Seconds later the helicopter rotated to face them then headed toward the Akita Maru. Hendrick grabbed a spare pair of binoculars and hurriedly lifted them to his eyes. The helicopter was dark green with one large rotor and an array of rocket launchers and cannon mounted on its fuselage.
"It's Russian," said Bakhtin breathlessly. He had come up to the bridge to assess the situation. "It's a Mil Mi-17. Those are thirty-millimeter cannons on the side with -" He strained to make out the details. " - one pod for fifty seven millimeter rockets." He lowered his binoculars. "Suki syn!"
"You can say that again," mumbled Hendrick in reply to the Russian version of "son of a bitch." "It looks like the helicopter we saw on Konaka's island."
The dark green helicopter swept in without hesitation at low altitude, bypassing the bridge to deliver three rockets into the sailors scattered throughout the deck in various defensive positions. The rockets exploded with devastating effect. Black smoke, flame and body parts filled the air.
The attacking helicopter fired another salvo of rockets, which struck the center deck of the freighter and exploded, leaving plumes of white smoke. The smoke settled over the deck and the sailors like morning mist in a river valley.
"Oh, God! It's got to be a gas attack!" said Maggie in a wavering voice.
Hendrick suddenly realized that the ship was slowing down. He whirled around to the bridge crew. "What's happening? Get our speed back up to push the gas off the deck!" The captain looked about in panic. Both Maggie and Takahata began to shout at him in Japanese until he rang up full speed ahead on the engine order telegraph.
The large helicopter stopped firing and hovered over the deck between the two large cranes fore and aft of the hatch to the center hold. The stiff rotor wash from the helo cleared the deck of the white gas, exposing the sight of Japanese sailors lying prostrate on the deck in awkward positions. Lines fell from the helicopter and unfurled to within a few feet of the deck. These were quickly followed by black-clad men, automatic weapons slung on their backs, who swiftly slid down the ropes. Their faces were covered with bulky gas masks. They came down the ropes six at a time.
"All right. This is the main event," said Hendrick grimly. "And the sailors have been knocked out. It's up to us."
The distinct lack of gunfire from the sailors drove home Hendrick's point. They all felt the ship begin to slowly accelerate.
"We can't stay here on the bridge," said Maggie. "Too big a target. I don't understand why they haven't hit us already."
Takahata and Bakhtin suddenly thought of the location of their own men. There were four SVR agents scattered throughout the superstructure and an equal number of Naicho.
"We will take the starboard side," said Bakhtin as he cocked his Kedr submachine gun.
"And we will take the port side," said Takahata.
"Good luck, Samurai," said Bakhtin to the Naicho leader.
"And luck to you, Cossack," replied Takahata.
Hendrick automatically moved to go with Bakhtin. He turned around to see if Maggie was following him, but she was on the port side of the bridge. Their eyes locked for a moment. The expression on Maggie's face summed up all the anguish their relationship had experienced in the past few days but with an added component. Fear.
Hendrick knew they were going into a battle against overwhelming odds. Would they see each other again? Would they be alive five minutes from now? Hendrick wanted to rush over and crush her body to his, unleashing all his pent up frustrations and passion. He wanted the world to go away and float in a utopia with Maggie. He wanted ...
Suddenly Maggie was gone, out the port door, out to fight their extremely capable enemy. Bakhtin went in front of Hendrick out the starboard door. Hendrick lingered for a moment, Maggie filling his mind. Then he ran after Bakhtin.
They made their way down the superstructure, Bakhtin gathering his men to brief them. Bakhtin had decided to take up positions behind the starboard side deck crane to try to defend the superstructure and the bridge from assault by Konaka's black-clad troopers. Hendrick could think of no better plan and made no objection. They exited a starboard door leading to the main deck and ran the few feet to the base of the large deck crane. Some M16s opened up on Konaka's soldiers fired by the few brave Japanese sailors who were still alive. The attackers went after them with speed and efficiency silencing them forever in a few short minutes. Bakhtin and Takahata used the time to get set behind the cover of deck equipment.
Hendrick looked about for a weapon and spotted an M16 next to a fallen sailor. He was halfway to it when Konaka's commandoes opened fire on the SVR agents. Gunfire filled the air around the crane with lead, sending ricocheting bullets in every direction. Hendrick hit the deck and crawled the last few feet to the unused weapon. He wrestled a clip belt from around the waist of the dead sailor and fastened it around his own waist. He checked out the rifle then slid over next to Bakhtin.
"So, Stephen, my American friend, you fight side by side with the Sluzhba," said Bakhtin over the gunfire.
"Yeah, let's hope that I survive with the Sluzhba as well," grunted Hendrick as bullet fragments sprayed about them.
An explosion on the port side filled the air with a concussive blast.
"I think half the Naicho were just wiped out," said Bakhtin. "We're really on our own now."
Hendrick instinctively looked for Maggie and saw her blond hair bobbing behind a control station for one of the deck cranes. She was crouched down with her eyes jammed shut to avoid being blinded by the debris that rained about her and the rest of the Naicho. A second later she half stood and fired her Uzi around the edge of the control station at their attackers.
Guts, thought Hendrick. She has guts. He redirected his attention forward and saw two black-clad men proceeding slowly toward his position along the starboard gunwale. After double-checking that the safety was off, he flipped the weapon on full automatic. He swung around the base of the deck crane and rapidly got Konaka's men in his sights. He squeezed the trigger and sent a half clip into the two men, leaving them dying on the deck.
Another grenade went off, this time much closer than before. He could hear some of the SVR agents cry out with surprise and pain. A host of automatic weapons fired at their position, sending all of them scrambling to the deck. Hendrick looked about, trying to assess their situation. Two SVR agents were obviously dead, their twisted bodies uncaring at the latest barrage from Konaka's men.
A grenade skittered along the deck past the deck crane to stop ten feet away from both Hendrick and Bakhtin. They instantly knew what it was and both leaped for it, but the younger American got to it first. He scooped his hand under it and with one fluid motion lifted it into the air over the gunwale. The grenade dropped over the side, exploding before it hit the water.
Hendrick turned to yell to Bakhtin, but a grenade explosion on the port side made him throw himself flat on the deck, shielding his face with his arm. He peered over his forearm and saw Maggie stagger away from their cover, helping Takahata who was obviously wounded. The rest of the Naicho littered the deck unmoving.
"Bakhtin! Let's go!" He waved frantically in the direction of the superstructure. The Russian SVR agent looked around and immediately saw that their position was untenable. He turned and yelled into the ear of the man next to him, then watched in horror as a blast from one of their attackers' automatic weapons nearly decapitated him. Bakhtin cringed at the sight then grabbed the arm of his remaining man and ran for the open door in the side of the superstructure, the door they had left only minutes before.
Hendrick crawled on all fours as fast as he could possibly travel. He reached the doorway, got behind the bulkhead, then peered around the doorway to cover Bakhtin's retreat. The remaining two Russians scrambled along the deck amid a hail of gunfire a bare foot over their heads.
Another grenade arched through the air over the base of the deck crane and landed a yard behind the two Russians. Hendrick shouted a warning, but it was lost among the rattle of gunfire. Three agonizing seconds later, the grenade exploded, sending the bulk of its shrapnel into the back of Bakhtin's last man. Some large pieces of shrapnel struck Bakhtin in his right shoulder blade and legs, sending him to the deck.
Hendrick stepped into the doorway and fired a long burst from his M16 emptying the clip. He could see Konaka's men duck behind various pieces of deck equipment for cover. Hendrick threw the weapon to the deck and ran to Bakhtin. He grabbed him under his arms and dragged him furiously toward the door. He threw the heavy Russian through the door then leaped in on top of him. Seconds later Konaka's stormtroopers filled the doorway with lead, sending bullet fragments ricocheting off the metal walls of the small room containing Hendrick and Bakhtin. Several hit both men causing them to cry out in pain.
Hendrick grabbed Bakhtin's submachine gun with its nearly full thirty round clip and slid along the bulkhead next to the open door. The gunfire let up for a few seconds as Konaka's men reloaded. Hendrick leaned around the doorway edge, firing a long burst toward the men on the deck. He caught a glimpse of two of them falling and gritted his teeth in fierce satisfaction. You bastard, Konaka, we won't go without a fight, he thought.
The noise of the large hovering helicopter suddenly drew his attention. It still hung over the central hold, waiting for the men it dropped to the deck to have their final victory. He pointed the short muzzle of the Kedr skyward and emptied the rest of the clip at the aircraft. The bullets bounced harmlessly off the fuselage. Armored, thought Hendrick. Why not? Konaka had anticipated every move of the Japanese so far.
Hendrick yanked his head back and slammed the watertight door. He spun the locking lever around to dog down the door. After looking around quickly, he took a fire ax from its cradle on the wall, then jammed it into the door locking mechanism. It might slow them down for a few minutes, he reasoned. Maybe time enough for me to get Bakhtin to safety. But where was safety? He could only think of the bridge. Hendrick pulled Bakhtin over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, causing the Russian to yell with pain, then took the stairs two at a time.
Hendrick burst onto the bridge and quickly laid Bakhtin on the deck. The bridge crew was huddled behind the metal walls below the bridge windows. Hendrick spotted the nuclear engineer, Namiki among them. Seconds later Maggie came in the port side doorway and leaned Takahata against the bulkhead. The Naicho leader had taken three bullets in the legs. Hendrick took a long look at Maggie, seeing blood running down the left side of her face. Maggie glanced at him.
"Steve, you're hurt!" she exclaimed. Bullet fragments had left his face and neck bleeding in a dozen places. She left Takahata's side and scrambled over next to Hendrick.
"You're bleeding!" said Hendrick. He reached up to wipe her face.
She caught his hand and gave him a look of utter desperation. "What are we going to do?"
"I don't know," he said. Something exploded two decks below them, jarring them with the shock wave conducted through the metal superstructure. He could imagine the door that he had jammed shut being blown apart. They had only seconds left.
"Keep fighting," he said grimly. He picked up Bakhtin's machine gun and put in a full clip. He cocked it and was ready.
"Watch out for grenades," shouted Maggie as she took up a position on the port side.
Hendrick's thoughts went to his last resort, his insurance policy to keep the nuclear weapons away from Konaka. He reached into his jacket pocket and felt the small radio he had kept there during his journey to Japan. But would he be there? Should I use it now? His eyes went to Maggie. What would happen to her? He had never expected Maggie to be here with him.
Hendrick saw movement out of the corner of his eye. His eyes darted over to the port side windows and saw the white helicopter, that had first approached the ship, maneuver closer to land on the ship. Nothing was going right, he thought frantically. He had assumed that the Japanese sailors had shot down that helo with Stingers before the battle on the ship began. The white helo probably had Konaka himself aboard, and it didn't look armored. If he had to die, then he'd rather take Konaka with him.
Hendrick half stood and ran over to the port side next to Maggie. He opened the door to the port bridge wing and was about to step out to get a clear shot at Konaka's helicopter when a voice from behind stopped him.
"Drop your weapons," came the clear command.
Hendrick and Maggie turned their heads in astonishment. Ship's captain, Fumio Ohsawa and the Japanese nuclear expert, Yasuo Namiki had machine guns pointed at them.
CHAPTER 38
The Flash of Lightning
Steve Hendrick's and Maggie Ramsey's weapons clattered to the deck. Ohsawa and Namiki made them back up against the aft bulkhead and put their hands on their heads. Hendrick glanced about, looking for some way out of their desperate situation but could find none. The automatic weapons of their enemies never wavered. Ohsawa picked up the radiotelephone handset and spoke a short sentence into it then hung up. Maggie translated.
"Clearance for Konaka to land," she said in a disgusted voice. "Now we know why the bridge wasn't attacked."
"Or why the destroyer never came up to defend us," said Hendrick.
"Yes," confirmed Ohsawa as he eyed them with amusement. "The warship thinks that we are proceeding normally and rendering assistance to a stricken member of our merchant marine."
Konaka's black-clad troopers entered the bridge from both sides simultaneously. They quickly saw who was in command and relaxed. They swiftly searched Hendrick and the others for more weapons. Bakhtin's Makarov pistol and Maggie's handgun disappeared into the pockets of Konaka's men. The crimson characters for the word truth on the chests of Konaka's men seemingly dripped with the blood of all they had killed. Hendrick exhaled in resignation. There was no hope now - they were surrounded by the enemy.
Konaka's helicopter landed aft of the bridge in a blast of noise. A few moments later, Konaka entered surrounded by his bodyguard.
"You'll never get away with this, Konaka," said Hendrick. "The Japanese Defense Force will blow you out of the water when they find out about this. Not to mention the Russians, Americans, British, French and every other civilized country in the world. No one will let you get away with two nuclear weapons."
"Ah, but when will the rest of the world find out that the bombs are gone?" asked Konaka smugly. "This ship will continue on its journey followed dutifully by the destroyer assigned to protect it. And we will be on our way with the merchandise."
"Masaya Konaka," gasped Takahata from the deck next to Maggie. They all looked at him. "Leader of Shinri no Kiro."
"Return to the Truth," translated Maggie. "Konaka is one of Japan's least known but most feared terrorists. Oh God, two nuclear weapons in the hands of -"
"Yes, a terrible thought indeed," said Konaka in a bored voice.
"The plutonium, what will you do with it, Konaka?" asked Maggie. "Poison the water supply of Tokyo?"
Konaka gave her a look of extreme amusement.
"You're going to nuke Tokyo!" gasped Maggie.
Konaka's near smile confirmed their fears.
"How? The fuzes have been removed from the bombs," said Hendrick. He looked at Namiki. "But, of course, you have other fuzes."
"Yes, my fuzes are much more accurate than the primitive ones provided by the Russians," replied Namiki with pride. "The Russian fuzes were barometer type used for airbursts. The ones I have designed use a radar for an altimeter. Radar pulses are bounced off the ground, and the time of propagation measured. At precisely one thousand meters, the bomb will detonate, creating the maximum overpressure on the government buildings and the Emperor's Palace, thus destroying the government that we all detest so much. Ground zero will be the Nippon TV Network building. A blast directly above there will provide a shock wave velocity of approximately eighteen hundred kilometers an hour - eleven hundred miles an hour for you Americans - at the Imperial Palace, likewise for the Diet Building, which holds our esteemed legislators. The Ground Self Defense Force Ichigaya Post and the Embassy of the United Kingdom will receive about a two thousand mile per hour shock wave. The American embassy will get slightly over a thousand mile an hour shock wave, and the Russian embassy will get off easily with only a nine hundred mile per hour shock wave. The Tokyo Stock Exchange will be hit by an eight hundred mile per hour shock wave. Total destruction for all of these places will be instantaneous. If the blast does not kill everyone, then the initial radiation dose of one thousand Rems will kill the survivors in two to fourteen days."
"How many will die?" asked Maggie in horror.
"With the enhanced yield of one hundred fifty kilotons provided by our government's nuclear engineers, we estimate approximately a half million people will be killed outright, and another half million will die during the next month from burns, being trapped in collapsed buildings and, of course, radiation," explained Namiki in a cold, detached manner. "Total casualties: one million dead, two million injured."
"And the second bomb?" asked Hendrick.
"Yokohama, of course," said Namiki. "Six hundred thousand killed and over a million injured. Almost five million casualties for both cities."
"Why Yokohama?" asked Hendrick.
"For maximum effect on the economy," replied Namiki.
"The Economic Summit," said Bakhtin, the level of Konaka's treachery suddenly becoming clear to him. "The leaders of all our countries will die in the blast." The president of the United States, prime minister of the United Kingdom, and the leaders of Canada, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, and Russia were all in Tokyo at the moment, discussing international economics.
"Yes, it was fortunate that the transfer of the bombs was simultaneous with the presence of the leaders of the top eight economic countries in the world," said Konaka. "It fits in nicely with the overall plan.
"The Japanese economy will collapse due to the complete and utter destruction of the stock market and its largest port, and the country will be thrown into chaos with the entire government annihilated." Konaka had a glint to his eyes. "Because the Japanese economy is so irretrievably linked to the world economy, we will all be treated to the phenomenon of collapse of the international banking industry, and thus the default of the majority of banks around the world. An international monetary crisis of unimaginable proportions! Made worse by the loss of all the heads of the largest economic countries in the world along with their top economic advisers. Think of it! Whole countries defaulting on loans! Economic depressions that will make the one in the 1930s seem like a walk in a rose garden!"
"And the Shinri no Kiro will take over the government," said Bakhtin through a grimace.
"I will create order from chaos, still the wind, smooth the waters. I will be the new emperor of Japan," said Konaka with a short bow. His taut face turned fierce. "And I will end this system of dependence on the United States and return Japan to its former glory! The constitution forced on us by the Americans after the war will be destroyed, and Article Nine will be publicly burned."
"Yes, Article Nine, the clause in our constitution stating that we forever renounce war," said Takahata. "And I suppose that you will restore the emperor to divine status as in prewar days? You will become divine."
Konaka's fierce look dissolved, and he gave Takahata a slight nod of the head. The gesture was meant to be a show of modesty by the extremist leader, but the others knew it to be the gesture of a megalomaniac.
"I have no strategy; I make the Right to Kill and the Right to Restore Life my Strategy," replied Konaka with a wistful tone.
"Ah yes," said Takahata. "You are the one who thinks he's a samurai. So you like to quote the samurai creed. How about this one: I have no armor; I make Benevolence my Armor."
"I rather like this one: I have no eyes; I make The Flash of Lightning my Eyes," replied Konaka.
The Japanese Naicho leader grimaced at Konaka's allusion to the atomic bombs. He looked Konaka over. "You have a wakizashi at your side." Takahata nodded toward the short sword worn by Konaka. "Thinking of hara-kiri? That's how most samurai died." He gave Konaka a fierce smile. "Need any help?"
"It is the honorable way to die," replied Konaka, his face twisting into a knot of rage.
"The samurai had honor. You have none," Takahata said.
"Your opinion, of course, but I will have Japan itself," said Konaka, his rage dissipating. His face took on a far away look. "Think of the justice of it all! The atomic bombs hidden by this corrupt government will cause the destruction of the same government."
"If you drop the bombs with a helicopter, you'll never get away from the blast," said Hendrick.
"Oh, but we've thought of that," replied Namiki. "We are now installing accessories to the fins which will increase the drag, thus making the bombs fall more slowly. That will provide us with more than enough time to get away."
"This is ridiculous!" stormed Takahata. "Our forces will stop you before you get anywhere near Tokyo!"
"The flight plan over the city has already been filed. So, you see they are expecting us," replied Konaka with satisfaction. He looked at Namiki and spoke a short order in Japanese. The nuclear engineer gave a breathless hai! in response and quickly left the bridge.
Konaka looked at Hendrick. "I owe you death for destroying my installations on Tung-yin Tao. I had quite a lot of ordnance stored there, which you blew up, but it really did not matter. The atomic bombs more than make up for the loss. So you will die in the next few minutes along with your friends." He turned to Murata. "You will do the honors?"
Murata looked surprised, then his face took on a horrifying determination. Murata smiled the look of a shark homing in on bloody meat in the water.
"What is it that you Americans say at times like this?" asked Murata. "Payback is a bitch, is it not?" He brought his machine gun up in front of Hendrick.
Hendrick slowly put his arms around Maggie. He was sure that it would be his last act. Murata cocked his AK47 and pointed it at Hendrick. Hendrick's breath froze in his throat.
"Not here," snapped Konaka irritably. "Take them down to the main deck and do it there. There's enough blood and guts there already. A little more will not matter."
The four captives exhaled nervously. Konaka's black-garbed troopers dragged Bakhtin and Takahata to their feet and shoved them all toward the ladder leading down to the main deck. As before, Hendrick helped Bakhtin, and Maggie helped Takahata. They began to descend the stairs on rubbery legs. Hendrick half turned to Murata who pushed him onward.
Hendrick stumbled, bending over to recover his balance and to tighten his grip on Bakhtin. His eyes fell on Bakhtin's feet and on the butt of the knife concealed in his right boot. This was the one weapon Konaka's men had missed. But it had only one round. One bullet against - he counted quickly - two in front and four behind.
He had one other recourse. However, he had to get clear of the metal sides of the ship to get a strong signal out to sea. They needed the code words, or else they wouldn't attack. He stared out a passing window in one of the compartments. At the next window, he thought. He'd get a bullet for it, but there was no other hope now.
Seconds later, he was just a few feet from the next window. He reached into his pocket and quickly yanked on the radio, pushing the transmit button as his hand rapidly withdrew from the pocket. He heard a grunt of surprise from Murata who had been watching him closely. He tried to bring the radio up to his lips, but the antenna snagged on the jacket inner lining. In a panic he bent over to get nearer to the radio just as Murata's hand clamped over the small transmitter.
"Hidden Sun!" shouted Hendrick a split second before a rifle butt slammed into his back taking his breath away. He rolled painfully on the deck as Murata examined the radio. He casually tossed the radio through the porthole where it fell to the sea.
"Let us shoot him here," said one of Konaka's men.
"No," said Murata in a resigned tone. "Konaka has given us orders and we will carry them out faithfully."
Maggie helped Hendrick to his feet. She squeezed his arm with concern, and he assured her quietly that he was all right.
Hendrick glanced aft and saw the large, dark helicopter still hovering above the cargo hold. A man was being winched up to join those in the helo. Hendrick recognized the tall, angular form of Konaka. He would be there when the bombs were dropped, thought Hendrick. Below Konaka were two large objects, also being hoisted up to their destination on large racks mounted to the underbelly of the helicopter. Their outlines with large fins and a protruding nose, for Namiki's high tech fuzes, clearly showed him that they were the Russian atomic bombs. In seconds the atomic bombs would be clear of the ship! Hendrick gave a desperate look seaward.
Where was Golubev?
Viktor Golubev stared through the periscope and licked his lips in indecision. What was happening? He had seen the unmistakable form of Konaka exiting the helicopter and entering the bridge. Did that mean that Hendrick, Bakhtin and the others had lost?
The phone call he had received from Hendrick three days ago had excited him, and he had pushed the speed of his submarine beyond safety limits to get into position. Hendrick had wanted some insurance that the bombs would never fall into the wrong hands in case things went badly against Konaka. It appeared that their worst fears had been confirmed. The battle for control of the ship had seemed to come to an end, but Golubev wasn't sure which side had won. The radio receiver was tuned to the carrier frequency Hendrick said he would use. Its volume was turned up producing an unnaturally loud blast of receiver noise. Golubev did not want to miss the code word for an attack on the ship.
The receiver noise was suddenly quieted by the presence of the transmitter carrier. Everyone in the conn looked at the radio. There was a rustling sound then two clearly enunciated words, Hidden Sun. Then silence.
Golubev looked at Ian Howard. "That's it then," said Golubev in a somber tone.
"Are you sure they've lost?" asked Ian Howard quietly. Golubev shook his head in resignation and stared back through the periscope.
Several black-clad men were leading four people down the outside ladders to the main deck. Golubev twisted the periscope handle around to get full magnification. There in the center of view was Hendrick and Maggie Ramsey. Men surrounded them, pointing automatic weapons at them.
"What's happening?" asked Howard. He studied the old Russian's face for any indication of the situation on the ship. Golubev's heavy jowls and sagging gray eyebrows betrayed the fate of the ship and its crew.
"The battle is lost," said Golubev. "Now it is time to act."
Howard exhaled quickly in resignation.
Golubev picked up a phone. "Open outer doors," he said in Russian. Creaking and groaning, the thick doors to the torpedo tubes swung open. The man on the other end of the phone confirmed that the doors were open.
"Fire one," said Golubev.
CHAPTER 39
To the Edge
Hendrick looked toward the sea, staring hard at the waves for any sign of a periscope. Time was up. Where was Golubev? He looked around in a panic. Maybe Golubev was late. Maybe he didn't realize that they had lost to Konaka's men. Maybe he was on the other side of the ship and didn't see them being led away to be executed. He had to do something, anything to slow down their executioners.
As they reached the main deck, Hendrick pretended to stumble, which wasn't hard to do with Bakhtin dragging him down. He fell to his knees and dropped Bakhtin to the deck as well. The Russian grunted with pain. Hendrick's hand felt for the knife in Bakhtin's boot. He yanked it free and turned the knife blade around toward himself. Maggie and Takahata were in front of him while Murata and three other guards were just behind him. He lifted the knife, pointing the butt toward Murata.
"What's that, Hendrick? A knife?" asked Murata in amusement. "Pity that you don't know which end to point toward your enemy." He gave a short laugh, his finger tightening on the trigger of his assault rifle.
Hendrick's fingers poked and rubbed the knife handle searching for the trigger to the built-in handgun. To everyone's surprise the knife suddenly fired its single round, burying the slug into Murata's face, entering near the front tip of the lower jaw, smashing its way through Murata's mouth and exiting out behind his left ear. The impact snapped Murata's head back and sent his body backwards to the deck. Murata dropped his assault rifle, letting it clatter on the deck five feet in front of Hendrick.
Hendrick leaped at the weapon, but another guard stepped around Murata and kicked it away. The rest of the guards were shocked at Murata's plight. Murata groaned in agony, writhing around on the deck. Hendrick stood and looked out to sea one last time. There, against the dark of the sea, was a telltale glint of sunlight off a periscope glass.
One of the guards raised his weapon and pointed the barrel at Hendrick's chest. Time's up, thought Hendrick.
Golubev's torpedo exploded ten feet below the keel of the Akita Maru, instantly throwing the ship thirty feet into the air with its upward detonation and snapping the ship in half like a matchstick. Hendrick and the others were scattered by the blast with bodies and weapons flying in every direction. The two halves of the freighter slammed back down on the surface of the sea, leaving Hendrick and the others falling to the deck twenty feet from where they had been. The guards who were behind Hendrick were flung against the ladder, striking them unconscious. The other two guards were dazed but still awake.
Hendrick spotted an assault rifle from one of the guards lying on the deck. He shook his head to clear it, then scrambled toward the weapon. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black form hurtling toward him. Hendrick and one of the guards arrived at the weapon at the same time. They both got their hands on it and yanked on it with all their strength. Hendrick abruptly swung the rifle to one side, dislodging one of the guard's hands, then viciously jammed the butt of the rifle into the face of Konaka's man. The edge of the stock caught him on the left side of his face, breaking his cheekbone with a resounding crack.
The guard staggered backward and fell to the rapidly tilting deck. Hendrick glanced around frantically for Maggie and saw her struggling with another guard. She got her switchblade out and popped the blade, jamming it in her attacker's arm. Konaka's soldier howled with pain and backhanded Maggie, sending her to the deck. He quickly pulled out a handgun and pointed it at Maggie.
Hendrick swung the barrel of his automatic weapon around, praying he could get off a burst in time to save Maggie. He fired as he moved the rifle barrel, sending a sweep of lead across the space between him and Maggie's attacker. He could see the guard's finger tighten on the trigger of his automatic.
Hendrick's panicked stream of bullets hit the guard in the arm throwing his aim slightly off as he fired. The bullet grazed Maggie in the side, ripping a hole along a seam in her bulletproof vest. Hendrick saw Maggie flinch and red seep from the tear in her body armor. He gritted his teeth and reaimed his assault rifle. The guard staggered backwards and transferred the handgun to his other hand.
Hendrick was way ahead of him. He took an extra second and carefully pointed the gunbarrel at the guard. He pressed the trigger, feeling the weapon kick against his shoulder. The guard took the blast across the trunk of his body, fell backwards and was still.
Hendrick ran to Maggie's side and gently helped her to her feet. She winced but seemed to move with enough agility.
"The bombs!" she gasped and nodded in the direction of Konaka's helicopter. Hendrick whirled around and saw the helo immediately move away from the swiftly sinking ship. The two large bombs were set in racks underneath the fuselage.
The sea rushed up toward them, lifting dead and unconscious bodies from the metal deck to bob furiously up and down on the swells. The deck continued its rapid tilt, making it difficult to stand upright. Hendrick glanced around for something to use against the swiftly disappearing helicopter with its deadly cargo.
"Come on!" yelled Maggie as seawater washed around her lower legs. He ran after her as she made her way back toward the superstructure.
"Konaka's helicopter! It's the only way to catch them!" she shouted over the rending metal sound of the dying ship. Hendrick nodded fiercely, then spotted Takahata and Bakhtin next to a pile of debris. He moved toward them, but Takahata stopped him with a shout.
"No! Stop Konaka! We'll be all right!" yelled the Naicho leader. He pointed to a life raft next to them, which would inflate when the water reached them.
Hendrick whirled around and ran with all his strength after Maggie who had already made it to the ladder leading to the helo deck. His mind raced. Even if they could get into the air and chase Konaka, how could they stop him? His mind stopped, a prayer forming in his consciousness. The main deck tilted precariously, sending random objects and debris sliding toward him. One long, cylindrical object among the debris was the answer to his prayer.
He recognized it immediately. It was a Stinger! One of the now dead Japanese sailors had dropped it during the gas attack.
Hendrick flipped the anti aircraft missile launcher over his shoulder and took the steps two at a time to the helo deck. He heard a burst of gunfire then suddenly was afraid for Maggie. He jumped onto the helo deck with one hand holding the Stinger and the other aiming his automatic weapon.
Maggie stood next to the helo on the pilot's side, trying to pull a body out of the aircraft. Hendrick could see several bullet holes in the helicopter's windshield. He ran to her side and helped her drag the dead pilot out of the helicopter, letting him fall to the deck.
"Now who's going to fly this thing?" asked Hendrick.
"Get in!" shouted Maggie.
He obeyed, not knowing what she had in mind. She simply got into the pilot's seat and began spooling up the helicopter's engine.
"You can fly this thing?" asked Hendrick incredulously. "It's not a seaplane, you know," he added referring to her escape from Konaka's island.
Maggie nodded quickly as her eyes flew over the instruments. "I forgot to tell you. My stepfather is not only head of Japanese intelligence, but he also makes helicopters."
Hendrick looked at her in amazement. Maggie was one surprise after another. She nodded in the direction of the Stinger, which Hendrick had thrown behind the copilot's seat.
"You better figure out how to use that thing," she shouted over the rapidly increasing noise from the helicopter's rotors.
The ship's deck tilted suddenly to greater than a fifty-degree angle as the aft section of the ship prepared to slip under the waves. The helicopter began to slide along the deck toward the aft bulkhead of the bridge. Maggie gunned the engines and lifted off in a burst of noise.
She immediately righted the aircraft and gained altitude. Hendrick looked at the bridge, expecting to see automatic weapons pointed at them, but the area seemed strangely deserted. He shifted his gaze to the edge of the helo deck and saw the remnants of Konaka's black-clad bodyguards. Their faces were filled with despair, seemingly lost amid the surrounding raging sea. Two of them pointed their weapons skyward and fired long bursts at him and Maggie. Hendrick heard some of the bullets hit the helicopter's fuselage, but neither Maggie nor he was hit. Maggie poured on the power and quickly left them and the Akita Maru far behind.
He turned his attention toward the Stinger and scrambled out of his seat to the rear cargo area to examine the weapon. To his amazement he saw operating instructions printed on the side of the weapon in English and in Japanese! He feverishly began to read, trying to concentrate as Maggie relentlessly drove the helicopter in pursuit of Konaka and his two nuclear weapons. As he began to go through the arming procedure, he realized that one of the Japanese sailors had already gone through most of the steps. He glanced forward and saw Konaka's helicopter appearing as a dot in the distance.
"When you get a little closer, I'll open the side door, then you face the right side toward Konaka's helicopter," said Hendrick in Maggie's ear. She nodded in an exaggerated fashion to show him she understood.
Konaka's helo seemingly grew in size until he could see the sunlight glinting off the spinning rotors. Hendrick looked over the antiair weapon one more time then took up a position next to the right side cargo door.
Maggie eyed the horizon, seeing the coast of Japan looming in the distance. She turned toward him. "We're about a half mile away. Do it now!"
Hendrick yanked open the door, which slid back parallel to the fuselage and braced himself against the forward door edge. Maggie rotated the helicopter to the left, pointing the right side toward Konaka. The wind buffeted Hendrick, but he managed to get the missile pointed toward the rear of Konaka's helicopter. He pushed the right buttons then waited for the thermal lock indication, and waited. Konaka's helicopter receded into the distance as their helo slowed down.
Hendrick lost his patience and hit the box-like front assembly with the palm of his hand. Nothing happened.
"Launch it!" shouted Maggie.
"There's no lock!" Hendrick shouted back.
"We've got no choice! Launch it anyway!" she shot in return.
Hendrick pointed the missile at the fleeing helicopter and pulled the launch trigger. The Stinger gave a blast of noise, filling the cargo area with exhaust fumes and flew from his shoulder out into the sky. Hendrick watched it go for a few seconds then scrambled back to the copilot's seat.
"The EMP from Konaka's attack on the ship must have damaged something in the launch assembly. The missile itself might be all right though. When it gets closer to the helicopter, maybe it'll lock on to one of the engine exhausts," said Hendrick. He groped inside a bag hanging from the dashboard and found a pair of binoculars. Hendrick peered through them and watched the Stinger fly in the general direction of Konaka's aircraft. Hendrick saw that on its present trajectory the missile would miss the target.
An alarm went off in the helicopter pilot's earphones.
"Missile launch!" he shouted. His hand reached over to arm the countermeasures.
Konaka's head whirled around to look at the pursuing helicopter. He knew the helicopter had no missiles. His eyes grew wide as he stared at the Stinger that charged away from the side of the helicopter. The missile flew in a corkscrew pattern then wandered off on a course destined to miss them. Konaka gave the missile a last worried glance then turned to see how Namiki, his nuclear expert was coming with arming the bombs. On cue, Namiki looked up and nodded to confirm that he was ready to arm at any time.
Hendrick kept staring at the missile and the fragile smoke trail it left in the air. Miraculously the missile changed course and began to head straight for Konaka's helicopter.
"It's locked on!" said Hendrick excitedly. Maggie smiled through an anxious glance at him. Hendrick watched with mounting anticipation as the Stinger rapidly closed in on the heat radiated by the helicopter's two powerful engines.
Suddenly a number of glowing objects flew from the rear of the helicopter fanning out in a semicircle. Hendrick watched in disbelief as the Stinger adjusted course again and went after the floating missile countermeasure flares. The missile flew swiftly into the middle of three white-hot flares and detonated harmlessly far behind the fleeing helicopter.
Konaka gasped at the close call. With a steel will he calmed himself and turned to face one of his followers.
"We should shoot them down, Konaka-san," said one of his followers.
"The helicopter has no more armament. It poses no danger to us," replied Konaka in measured tones. He eyed the helicopter in the distance. "I doubt if they could catch up to us now." Konaka smiled, the hard lines cracking into unfamiliar shapes, to show his disdain for their pursuers. The startled follower stared at his idol - he had never seen him smile before.
"What happened?" asked Maggie who didn't believe what she had just seen.
"The Stinger is a heat seeker. It went after the flares they ejected," Hendrick explained.
Maggie looked at him in despair. She thought for a moment then picked up a microphone. "Maybe the Japanese Air Force can shoot them down. But I don't know what frequencies they're using."
Maggie tried for several minutes switching frequencies and trying all sorts of Japanese phrases incomprehensible to Hendrick. On all but one channel she received only silence. On the one occupied channel she tried unsuccessfully to convince the man on the other end that Tokyo was in danger of annihilation.
"How much time have we got?" asked Hendrick.
Maggie shook her head to convey her uncertainty. "We'll be over land in about fifteen minutes."
Hendrick looked about for any other weapons and only came up with his and Maggie's machine guns. "Can you get close enough for a shot at them with these?" He held up one of the weapons.
"The fuselage is armor plated as well as the rotors, and if we get in front of them they'll just blow us out of the sky with their cannon," replied Maggie. "I don't understand why they haven't shot us down already."
"We've got to do something!" retorted Hendrick as panic gripped him once again. "Get up close to them, but underneath them. Maybe I can damage the bombs so they won't detonate."
"It's worth a try," said Maggie grimly. She adjusted the controls and tested the throttle to put all possible speed on the helo.
They slowly caught up to Konaka's helicopter, which had increased speed after they had detected Hendrick's missile launch. Maggie took up a station below and fifty yards behind Konaka's helicopter. Hendrick leaned out the right side window with Maggie's Mini-Uzi. Concentrating on one of the bombs, he fired a full clip in and around the bomb, seeing the bullets bounce off the hard steel casing.
Konaka's helicopter suddenly made an evasive maneuver swinging hard to the right and gaining altitude. Maggie gamely went after them and Hendrick put another clip into the bomb and its mounting rack. If the rack is damaged so that the bombs won't release, then they won't arm them, thought Hendrick desperately, and they'll have to abort the entire mission. He ran out of Uzi ammunition and switched to the AK47 he had picked up from the deck of the ill-fated Akita Maru.
After more evasive maneuvering by Konaka's helicopter, Hendrick put his final burst into the bomb rack and watched closely as one of the bombs began to wobble in the air stream passing under the aircraft's fuselage. The wobble increased in amplitude until it broke free of the bomb rack and began to fall away from the aircraft.
"What happened?!" thundered Konaka as he noticed a red light on Namiki's control panel.
The nuclear expert looked up at his leader with a white face. "One of the bombs dropped!"
Konaka's mouth fell open in undignified amazement. "How is it possible?" The fear of not completing his mission suddenly became real.
Namiki shook his head. "The gunfire. It must have destroyed the bomb rack."
Konaka moved quickly forward to stand behind the pilot. "Turn around and blow that aircraft out of the sky!" he ordered at the top of his lungs.
"We cannot!" shouted Namiki. Konaka gave him a surprised and savage look. "The bomb is armed!" said Namiki in a loud voice.
"Oh, my God!" shouted Maggie as her eyes followed the bomb downward until it passed out of sight below them. She glanced ahead. The coastline of Japan was a thin line on the horizon.
"What's our altitude?" asked Hendrick desperately.
"Seven thousand feet," replied Maggie.
"It's supposed to detonate at a thousand meters, about three thousand three hundred feet," said Hendrick.
"If it detonates, at least it'll be over the Pacific and not the city itself," said Maggie.
"We had better put as much distance between us and the bomb as we can," said Hendrick in a shaky voice. "Can this thing go any faster?" He gave Maggie a frantic look.
"I don't think so," replied Maggie in a voice filled with dread. "How much time have we got?"
"Don't know," said Hendrick in a quiet voice. A ball of ice seemed to form in his stomach. He turned to look back.
"Don't look at it!" screamed Maggie.
The interior of the helicopter was suddenly filled with blinding light.
CHAPTER 40
Samurai Sun
The fierce light grew swiftly in intensity until Hendrick could barely look at the console in front of him. He closed his eyes and reached out to touch Maggie's arm.
"Brace yourself!" he shouted. He gripped the armrest tightly with his other hand.
The glare from the nuclear blast hit its peak then dimmed slightly. Suddenly the helicopter felt as if a huge hand pounded it from the rear. The shock wave from the detonation forced the aircraft to fly forward at greatly increased speed for a few seconds, causing it to veer wildly out of control.
With the roaring of the nuclear burst in their ears, Maggie fought desperately with the controls trying to right the aircraft, which nearly somersaulted in the face of the shock wave and the following strong winds. They spent a harrowing few moments facing straight down as the helicopter was tossed before the blast. The wind at their back subsided quickly then reversed itself, turning into an incredibly strong headwind in a few seconds.
The wind finally decreased to near normal, leaving their aircraft spinning downward out of control. Maggie gritted her teeth and wrestled with the controls until she finally righted the aircraft just three hundred feet above the water. She let out an exhausted and relieved sigh, settling for flying straight and level for a moment.
Hendrick began to breathe again. He looked out the right side window, gaping at the startling mushroom cloud, the signature of a nuclear detonation.
Ken-Ichi Murata was pulled into the launch by three of the crewmembers of the Eastern Conveyor. They struggled to get him aboard, and when they finally got him over the gunwale, they winced at the sight of his face. The bullet fired by Hendrick from Bakhtin's firing knife had left Murata without part of his face. The left side of his jaw had been shattered. Murata held his face together in his hands.
Murata lay in the bilge with his mouth opening and closing, working to get as much air into his lungs as possible. He choked then vomited, then tried to compose himself and failed miserably. The crewmen pulled him upright and sat him on one of the seats on the boat. A sudden shudder went through him from the pain of his wound as well as the chill from the sea. One of them put a blanket around him, but it didn't immediately diminish his shivering. The pain in his face had been severe, but was lessening as he lost blood. He thought that he was going into shock.
Murata turned and looked around at the mushroom cloud in the distance. He estimated that the blast was fifty miles away. What had happened to make Konaka drop a bomb early?
All the men that Konaka had sent on board the ill-fated Akita Maru were gone, one hundred of them, adding to the loss of eighty-five men in the battle on Tung-yin Tao. He still had a reserve force of fifty on the Eastern Conveyor, but his private army had taken a serious blow.
Most importantly, the gold Konaka had taken from the pirate Chang was still safely on board the Eastern Conveyor, all seven hundred million dollars of it. All was not lost, quite the contrary, he thought. Konaka will destroy the world's economy, and the gold will be very useful for ruling Japan.
Murata's shaking stopped as he thought of the Shinri no Kiro finally achieving its sacred mission. He would see the second huge blast to the east, and he would know that Konaka's plan was complete. He had the thought that he better get on board before Konaka vaporized Tokyo. He had to get away from the area quickly. His boat was within five hundred yards of the ship and approaching it quickly. In a few minutes, I'll be aboard safe and warm, and the medical staff will begin to put my face back together, he thought as a wave of dizziness passed over him.
There was no stopping any of them now.
"Fire Two," said Golubev. The inside of the submarine was filled with the sounds of compressed air driving the weapon out of the torpedo tube. Golubev glanced at the fire control crewman who nodded to himself.
"Torpedo is operating normally," he said to Golubev.
The old Russian looked through the periscope again and shook his head at the freighter that sat before them dead in the water. Like shooting chickens on the farm, he thought. Too easy. He squinted into the eyepiece and cranked up the magnification. A small motor launch was approaching the side of the ship.
"There goes our second and last torpedo," said Ian Howard. "Bloody good that your people got both of them fixed in time." He hesitated. "You don't suppose Maggie and Steve could have survived the bomb blast."
Golubev looked down at the deck, and just shook his head.
"Torpedo is in terminal mode," said the fire control technician.
They all looked at Howard. He glanced at the stopwatch in his hand.
"Ten seconds to detonation," said Howard.
Murata heard the whine coming from the sea around him. His blood turned to ice.
He pointed at the sea to ask a crewman what the sound was. The man had a perplexed look on his face and shook his head in consternation. Murata stood, leaning over the railing to stare at the water. The whine got louder and was joined by the sound of sonar pulses as the torpedo went into its terminal homing mode.
The torpedo ran by them at forty knots. Murata's eyes followed the noise until he ended up staring at the side of his ship. Realization hit him all at once. He opened his mouth to shout, but his mangled face only produced a gurgling noise cut short by the torpedo detonating underneath the keel of the freighter.
The ship was torn in two by the upward blast of the torpedo's four hundred kilogram warhead. The bow and stern collapsed back to the sea to quickly fall below the waves. A large wave radiated outward from the explosion, engulfing Murata's small boat, capsizing it.
TEN THOUSAND FEET ABOVE TOKYO BAY
Below them the land turned back to sea as they swept over the narrow neck of the Chiba peninsula and beyond to Tokyo Bay. Konaka's helicopter not only had survived the blast but had continued its advance on Tokyo. Konaka's aircraft grew slowly closer as Steve and Maggie gradually caught up to the terrorists once again.
"Uh oh," said Hendrick as he saw Konaka's helicopter suddenly turn to point at them.
Maggie gave a shriek and jammed the collective forward and to the right, sending the aircraft into a downward spiral. Hendrick grabbed both arms of his seat and hung on. Seconds later they could hear the thumping of Konaka's thirty-millimeter cannon. The pilot walked the stream closer to their aircraft in spite of the gyrations Maggie was putting on their helo to escape the deadly stream of shells.
A cannon shell suddenly struck the helo in the center of its fuselage exploding in the cargo bay behind them. Debris and pieces of hot metal rained over the two of them, causing minor wounds in their head, neck, and shoulders. Maggie gave a sharp yell of pain, and Hendrick groaned as he felt blood trickle from his scalp.
An electrical fire started, filling the cargo bay with smoke. Hendrick leaped out of his seat and ran back to fight the fire. Maggie struggled with the controls but managed to level off and keep the helo flying. Hendrick grabbed a fire extinguisher and had the fire out in minutes. He returned to his seat and searched skyward for Konaka's helicopter.
"I can't understand why they haven't finished us off," said Maggie nervously. Hendrick spotted Konaka's aircraft far above them. It turned and headed once more for Tokyo.
Konaka's helicopter began to gain altitude rapidly. Maggie was after them as fast as their aircraft would follow.
"How is this thing? Will it stay in the air a few more minutes?" asked Hendrick.
"It's surprisingly pretty good," said Maggie. "I guess they didn't hit anything vital."
"We're still alive. Two miracles in one day. We escaped that first bomb, and they didn't finish us with their cannon," said Hendrick, his voice tight with fear.
"If we can sneak up on them again, maybe you can dislodge the second bomb," said Maggie hopefully.
"We're out of ammunition," said Hendrick.
Maggie gave him a desperate, agonizing look.
"There's only one thing left to do," said Hendrick.
Maggie looked at him questioningly but with a horrified air. She knew the answer.
"We have to ram them," said Hendrick slowly.
Konaka stared at Namiki who visibly shook as he looked over his control panel.
"Is the second bomb armed?" asked Konaka in a quiet voice.
Namiki's shaking grew in amplitude as he answered his leader. "Yes, it is armed, Konaka-san."
"The near miss has disturbed you?" Konaka asked in a voice bordering on compassion.
"It was unexpected," explained Namiki.
Konaka's gaze swept over his followers who sat on the bench seats lining either side of the helicopter. They hadn't reacted to the nuclear blast in the distance behind them. They had the correct attitude. They were the new samurai.
"The way of the samurai is found in death," intoned Konaka, quoting the Hagakure, the classic of the bushido philosophy, the Way of the Warrior. "To do what we know must be done, we must expect death. We are the allies of death. Death is our friend. Through death we will achieve our goals and allow Japan to achieve true greatness."
"Let us hope that you are talking about the death of our enemies," said Namiki in a low voice.
Konaka's hard lines turned to granite. "In a few moments, we shall see whose death we are talking about."
Maggie had the throttle wide open and the helicopter straining to catch up with the large military helicopter containing Konaka and the one remaining atomic bomb.
"We're falling farther behind!" yelled Hendrick over the rotor noise.
Maggie shook her head in panic and tried to shove the throttle further open. "They're gaining altitude! They have a higher ceiling than we do."
They both watched in despair as the dark helicopter steadily pulled away from them.
"They're gaining altitude to buy time to get away from the blast," explained Hendrick. He quickly looked down at the city trying to assess how much time they had remaining. The Japanese Emperor's Palace gardens were easy to find. It was the largest green area below them. Namiki had told them that ground zero was the Nippon TV Network building which Hendrick thought to be west of the Emperor's Palace. A cold feeling ran over him. They were almost there.
Konaka looked out over the city and nearly smiled once again. Whoever was in the pursuing helicopter had probably crashed by now, he thought. The aircraft had been steadily losing altitude and had smoke issuing from a gaping hole in its side. They had made a valiant effort, and he respected them for it. But they had given their lives for a corrupt system, and they were fools for doing so.
Anticipation welled up in him, and he felt as if he was going to burst with satisfaction. The moment was upon him. They were seconds away from dropping their last bomb.
Thoughts of his grandfather filled his mind. The government, which had harassed him, made him lay down his sword, stripped him of his authority, and then had killed him for his act of ultimate defiance would soon be destroyed. He would show them the power of the samurai.
The samurai would live once again.
"Oh my God, Steve, what are we going to do?" asked Maggie in an emotionally devastated voice. Hendrick just shook his head helplessly.
"Steve, we're just about out of gas," said Maggie as she glanced at the fuel gauge.
"That's the least of our worries at the moment," mumbled Hendrick.
"We'll drop like a rock," replied Maggie.
"You didn't expect to live through this, did you?" asked Hendrick. Maggie gave him a long, desperate look. Her mouth went suddenly dry.
The radio suddenly came alive with a voice in Japanese and had Maggie nearly two feet above the seat in excitement. "It's the Japanese Air Force! They have two fighter planes closing in!" She picked up the microphone and quickly told them where they were and described Konaka's helicopter. "Somebody in the Naicho must have convinced them."
Hendrick looked around and spotted two blurs in the distance off to his right.
"They're arming missiles!" said Maggie as she heard the pilots talking to each other. Hendrick held his breath.
"They have a tone!" she said, referring to the noise in the pilot's earphones when the fire control system in their fighter planes locked on to the target.
Hendrick saw a burst of flame from the undercarriage of one of the fighters and a missile fly away toward Konaka's helicopter.
"Missile launch!" shouted the helicopter pilot as a tone from his missile-warning receiver came through his earphones.
Konaka ran up to him. "Where? Who?" The pilot glanced over his shoulder and shook his anguished face in desperation. The copilot put his face into his hands.
"The flares worked once before. Why not now?" demanded Konaka.
The copilot pointed to the electronic countermeasures receiver in the control panel in front of them. "It's a radar controlled missile this time! We have no radar decoys!"
Konaka realized the hopelessness of his situation instantly. They had only seconds to live. He turned to Namiki. "Drop the bomb! Now!" Namiki's eyes went wide open in shock.
Konaka turned back around and was suddenly calm. He wouldn't live to see the destruction of the hated society, but he knew that he could not be stopped now. It took only a second for the bomb to be dropped, and he could see Namiki throwing the switch in his peripheral vision. Konaka closed his eyes, forcing his body to relax for the final burst of pain then death.
He swiftly drew the wakizashi from its sheath and held the blade poised in front of his abdomen. Konaka jammed the sword into his stomach with all his strength in the traditional method of hara-kiri. He gasped as pain shot through his body, taking his breath away. He fell to the deck twitching in agony. With his last reserves of strength he shoved the sword sideways putting a nine-inch gash in his flesh.
I was at Kagoshima, Kumamoto, and Shiroyama. I was there when the samurai fought their last battle. I was there.
He hoped his great-grandfather was watching.
Hendrick picked up the binoculars again and focused on Konaka's helicopter. The aircraft turned quickly and began to flee before the fighter aircraft, pumping out waves of flares from its countermeasures canister. Hendrick saw the shackles pull back, allowing the atomic bomb to be released from the rack. A split second later, the radar guided anti-aircraft missile slammed into the fuselage of Konaka's helicopter turning it into a ball of flame. Hendrick's eyes flicked down to the bomb, hoping that it also would be destroyed by the missile. He gasped with dismay as he saw the bomb fly out of the smoke and fall away intact. The added drag components deployed, and the bomb nosed its way downward toward Tokyo.
Maggie, who was about to cheer with relief, stopped short after seeing the dark object separate from the ball of smoke and debris, which used to be Konaka's helicopter and fall with terrifying suddenness.
"Nothing to do now, but run!" she shouted and shoved the stick over to make a sharp U-turn.
Hendrick's eyes ran panic-stricken over the inside of their helicopter until they came to rest on a control panel, which had been recently added to the copilot's console.
The idea hit him like a lighting bolt. "Maggie! Turn around!"
"Are you nuts?" she screamed at him.
"Quick! Dive after the bomb!" he yelled back.
"We'll get killed!" she shouted, then without knowing why, but driven by the intense look on Hendrick's face, she turned the helicopter around and shoved the stick forward, sending the helicopter into a shrieking dive. She gave him a devastating look. He pointed to the console. Her eyes flickered with recognition.
"Will it work?" asked Maggie at the top of her lungs as she glanced again at the controls in front of Hendrick.
"Probably not," replied Hendrick. It wasn't the answer she wanted to hear. He flipped up the arming switch, causing a light to come on. Next to the light was the word Charging.
"How long does it take to charge?" asked Maggie.
"Don't know," answered Hendrick.
Maggie spotted the bomb as a dark spot hovering over the abstract shapes of one of the most populous cities on earth. She knew that the bomb was falling very fast even though by any bombing standards this particular bomb was dropping relatively slowly.
"What's our altitude?" asked Hendrick, his eyes riveted to the second light on the console with the word Armed next to it. That light was still dark. The EMP weapon charged a large bank of capacitors. When it was fired, it used the energy in the capacitors to transmit an electromagnetic pulse of enormous energy.
"Seven thousand feet," she replied with a glance at the altimeter.
Sweat began to pop out on Hendrick's forehead. "At three thousand three hundred she goes."
"Don't remind me," Maggie said through gritted teeth. The bomb had gotten seemingly bigger, but not by much.
A drop of sweat ran down Hendrick's nose.
"How close do we have to get to the bomb?" asked Maggie in a tremulous voice.
"A hundred feet," replied Hendrick, visualizing how high the helicopter was above the Akita Maru when Konaka fired the EMP weapon. He glanced at the altimeter.
"Five thousand feet and we're at least a thousand feet away from the bomb," said Maggie. "We're not going to make it!"
"When this EMP weapon is charged, you have to pull up and fly level so that the antenna on the undercarriage is pointed toward the bomb," said Hendrick. Namiki had told them that the bombs had new radar altimeters installed to act as fuzes. A radar needed an antenna. The electromagnetic pulse weapon would send its high-energy pulse into the radar's antenna and blow out the radar receiver. At least that's the way I hope it'll work, thought Hendrick frantically.
Maggie nodded then stared at the altimeter. "Steve! The bomb is near thirty seven hundred feet! We have only a few seconds!"
Hendrick flipped up the red cage around the firing switch and held his thumb poised over the button. Sweat ran down his forehead until it was held up momentarily by his eyebrow. A large drop suddenly burst loose and ran into his eye, causing a stinging sensation. He jammed his eyes shut in reaction then opened them quickly.
The armed light was on.
"Pull up!" he shouted to Maggie. She yanked back on the stick with all her strength.
Hendrick's thumb slammed down on the firing button. He held his thumb down and looked up at Maggie.
Their eyes met, their thoughts frozen into emotion. Hendrick reached over and touched Maggie's arm. She slid her left hand over his and squeezed it gently with no panic.
"Maggie, I -" he began, then fell silent.
She shook her head and closed her eyes.
Below them, the atomic bomb fell inexorably toward Tokyo.
EPILOGUE
Mission Accomplished
The residents of Tokyo went about their daily routines with little awareness of the battle in the skies above their city. The first detonation produced a flash and a low rumble of noise on the horizon. Most residents of Tokyo, being inside their offices at the time, didn't see it.
They only knew for certain that something was wrong when many of them found that their radios, TVs, and cellular phones suddenly failed to work. A large number of cars quickly died, their electronic ignitions blown out by the electromagnetic pulse fired by Hendrick. The area affected was directly below where the bomb fell, having received the strongest electromagnetic field from the EMP weapon.
The meeting of the eight heads of state in the Economic Summit, now called the G8, was interrupted for a moment as the attendees heard the rumble from the first atomic bomb blast in the distance. Aides rushed to discover the source of the noise. Before they could return, the EMP from Hendrick caused the lights to flicker out, only coming back on as backup generators in the Diet Building filled the lack of electricity. They had all instinctively looked out the windows, and many of them noticed the dark form of the bomb, which had been released at the wrong point by Namiki, bury itself into the bed of the Soto-Bori Moat which lies northwest of the Imperial Palace. The bomb's impact sent a huge plume of water skyward.
The meeting continued after reports were received that a helicopter had crashed on a nearby deserted Tokyo street. No one was hurt, except of course the occupants of the helicopter who were all killed. Everyone assumed that the object they had seen fall into the moat was a piece of the helicopter. Word of the nuclear detonation off the east coast of Japan only reached the heads of state much later in the day. Each head of state, to their horror, would be individually briefed as to the real events that had taken place over their heads as they had discussed the fine points of the international economy.
The water at the entrance to Tokyo Bay was choppy and cold as it lapped against the sides of the life raft, spraying droplets over them. The raft had inflated automatically when it hit the water, but the thin plastic to be used as cover for the survivors had been torn in the crash, leaving them largely exposed to the weather. Although the day was sunny, a chilling breeze constantly swept over the water driving away any warmth from the sun.
Steve Hendrick wrapped his arms around Maggie Ramsey and tried to stem her shudders from their recent swim in the cold water. She gratefully curled up against him trying to gain as much warmth from him as possible. He looked down at the top of her head, and the memory of the last time he had done so swirled through his mind. They had been in Loh's house hundreds of miles away and in front of a cozy fire after escaping death on Tung-yin Tao. Now they had just escaped being vaporized by Konaka and his band of right wing lunatics.
He shook his head and his body shuddered more with that thought than with the cold. The bomb had not detonated. They had waited for the blazing instant of death, not really believing that Hendrick's desperate last act of firing the EMP weapon would disable the bomb. But against all odds, it had worked, and Namiki, the terrorists' nuclear expert, hadn't thought to include a contact detonator in his sophisticated radar fuze.
Maggie had thrown the helicopter around to head back toward the sea, and Hendrick had caught a glimpse of the enormous splash as the bomb fell into the moat just north of the bridge leading into the Ichigaya section of Tokyo.
By that time, they were over Tokyo Bay and out of fuel. The helicopter's engine suddenly stopped, and the aircraft fell like a stone. The water seemed like concrete as the helicopter slammed into the sea, disintegrating upon impact. Hendrick quickly got himself clear but had to work on the swiftly sinking wreckage to free Maggie who had the pilot's console and surrounding fuselage wrapped around her. He succeeded in freeing her only after the aircraft had sunk fifty feet.
They both broke the surface at the same time, gasping for air and thanking God that they were still alive. There were no ships visible in any direction. Only the life raft, that was sitting calmly thirty feet away, was in view.
Hendrick took another look around, again seeing no ships.
"I can't believe this," he said in a frustrated voice. "I always thought Tokyo Bay was full of shipping."
Maggie glanced at him and managed a smile. "They'll come for us."
The waters around them suddenly seemed to boil.
"What is it?" asked Maggie.
Hendrick shook his head in consternation. "If I didn't know better, I'd think it was a -" He stopped suddenly as the turbulence grew quickly in intensity. The roiling water threw their raft around like a leaf on a storm tossed sea.
The water parted, and a huge black object began to extend out of the bay. The monolith seemed to grow from the sea without end until it towered above them.
" - submarine," finished Hendrick as he gaped at the vessel's superstructure. It looked familiar.
A minute later a face poked over the rail at the top of the sub's sail.
"Kak pozhivaete, druzya!" said Golubev, his jowls pushed up into the widest smile Hendrick had ever seen on the old Russian's face.
"What did he say?" asked Maggie with a relieved laugh.
"How is your life, friends?" translated Hendrick.
"Well, it certainly isn't boring!" shouted Maggie.
They could see Ian Howard's head poke over the railing next to Golubev.
"Did you see Bakhtin and Takahata?" asked Maggie anxiously.
"They're below, getting their wounds looked at," replied Howard.
Steve and Maggie let out sighs of relief.
"I might have known that you would get the best of this deal," shouted Howard with an obvious nod at Maggie.
Maggie smiled and then deliberately planted a lingering, lascivious kiss on Hendrick's lips for their benefit. Howard and Golubev laughed and clapped.
An hour later, Maggie and Hendrick leaned on the railing that ran around the top of the superstructure of Golubev's submarine. The old Russian busied himself with navigating his way through Tokyo Bay which had become crowded in the meantime. The sight of the old Russian submarine picking its way among the larger freighters and tankers amazed the ships' crews who pointed, hollered, and waved. Hendrick and Maggie periodically waved back.
They had gotten dry clothes and had their wounds attended to, the worst of which was Maggie's cut in her side from a bullet fired by one of Konaka's men. They had various bumps and bruises, the pain from which was alleviated by painkillers.
Takahata had told them that he had contacted the naval arm of the Japanese Defense Force and told them about the attempt by Konaka to destroy Tokyo with an atomic bomb. They had contacted the air force to scramble fighters into the air which explained their sudden arrival in the vicinity of Konaka's helicopter.
"All I wanted to do was pick up a little gold off the bottom of the sea, and maybe if I got lucky, find what obsessed my father so much sixty some years ago," said Hendrick as he scanned the shore line of Japan, the mammoth city of Tokyo in the distance. "That's all. Simple enough, right? And I get the Russian, Japanese, and British intelligence agencies, as well as the CIA, and a band of bloodthirsty pirates. Not to mention the Chinese Navy who nearly blew us to pieces in the Taiwan Strait. And to top it all off, a bunch of Japanese terrorists who want to nuke Tokyo."
Maggie slid up his chest to put her face within an inch of his. He could feel her body through her thin jacket and felt her softness wear away at him. He leaned down and kissed her, first lightly, then with more passion. Finally they broke away, and he stared at her breathlessly.
"Is there a hotel room in this town where we can get away from everyone for a few hours?" he asked.
"We'll find one," Maggie replied with a clear invitation in her eyes. She suddenly grew serious. "I hope that I'm more than just a one night stand."
Hendrick looked her in the eye. "You were never a one night stand."
Maggie smiled and got tears in her eyes.
Konaka's face intruded into his consciousness as it had for the last five years. He knew he had an antidote in Maggie's face just inches from his. Konaka, who had haunted him for years, now seemed distant, and he hoped the Japanese terrorist would get more so as time went on. Would direct revenge on Konaka have helped him get over Malik's and his brother's murder? He wasn't sure, but he knew that Konaka's death didn't help him when he thought of his lost friend and brother. He still missed them terribly.
Steve knew he had one more job to do.
"I wonder if I could get the cylinder back from Bakhtin and Stalin's letter from Takahata," he mused. Maggie looked at him questioningly.
NEWTOWN SQUARE, PENNSYLVANIA
Steve Hendrick strode down the corridor of the nursing home, carrying the Russian cylinder with Stalin's letter to the government of Japan rolled up inside it. He had also inserted a neatly typed translation. Maggie hung at his side, filled with emotion at the thought of Steve finally completing his father's six decade long mission.
They reached the door and stopped outside. Steve put his hand on the knob and hesitated, looking through the small window. Edward Hendrick was seated calmly in a chair, staring out the window. His head, so recently full of white hair, had grown bald with only a few strands crossing the top of his head in a haphazard manner. His body, so muscular when he was young, was now a wasted shell.
Steve turned the knob and pushed the door open with a slight squeal from the hinges. He half expected his father to turn around at the noise, but the old man didn't move. Steve walked across the room and bent over him.
"Dad," he murmured softly. The elder Hendrick blinked his eyes. "Dad, it's Steve."
Edward Hendrick turned his head slowly, his mouth slack, saliva dripping from his dead lips. He stared at Steve's face, his eyes not seeing. His mouth worked slowly, agonizingly, the words forming via a torturous path through his cortex.
" - there. Still -" Steve's father swallowed convulsively. "Still there." His aged head lowered slowly to look at his empty hands.
"No, Dad," said Steve quietly. "It's not still there." He placed the cylinder with its embossed Cyrillic letters into his father's hands.
The old man stared at the cylinder with a vacant expression on his face, the light of recognition gone out.
"Now it's in your hands once again," whispered Steve. He took his father's hands and wrapped them around the cylinder. To his surprise his father gripped the tube tightly.
The elder Hendrick slowly raised his face toward the light from the window, his sightless eyes staring, his mouth slack once again.
"He doesn't know what it is," said Maggie, her voice breaking with emotion.
Steve straightened and gazed at his father for a long moment. He knew his own obsession with the Awa Maru was over, but his father's was never-ending. He turned and touched Maggie's arm leading her from the room.
"Someday he will," Steve said.
The End

