“Yes, that's a possibility. Homeland Security and the FBI don't seem to think the JRA has the resources to conduct a deep-water salvage operation and they're probably right. But, then, all it would take is money, and who's to say how well funded they, or an associate terrorist group, may be. Rudi agrees that we better make sure one way or the other.”
The room fell silent as all minds visualized a cache of deadly biological bombs sitting deep below the ocean's surface and the consequence if they fell into the wrong hands.
“You've got the best ship and crew in NUMA at your disposal,” Morgan finally said. “We'll get her done.”
“Captain, we've got a pretty large search area on our hands. How soon can we be under way?” Dirk asked.
“We'll need to top off our fuel supplies, plus two or three of the crew still ashore obtaining additional provisions. I expect we can be under way in six hours,” Morgan said, glancing at a wall chronometer.
“Fine. I'll retrieve the search coordinates and provide them to the ship's navigator right away.”
As they exited the conference room, Summer tugged at Dirk's elbow.
“So what did the data from Perlmutter cost you?” she chided, knowing the gourmet historian's penchant for culinary blackmail.
“Nothing much. Just a jar of pickled sea urchins and an eighty-year-old bottle of sake.”
“You found those in Washington, D.C.?”
Dirk gave his sister a pleading look of helplessness.
“Well,” she laughed, “we do have six more hours in port.”
But, Dae-jong, opening the gates to the North is not going to provide me a usable, skilled labor pool," the CEO of South Korea's largest auto manufacturer asserted before taking a puff on a large Cuban cigar.
Sitting across a mahogany cocktail table, Dae-jong Kang shook his head politely as a long-legged waitress brought a second round of drinks to the table. Their conversation halted while the young Chaebel Club waitress placed their drinks in front of them. The club was a private enclave for Korea's super rich and powerful, a secure and neutral meeting place where huge deals were hammered out over kimchi and martinis. The aristocratic club was appropriately housed on the hundredth floor of the world's tallest building, the recently completed International Business Center Tower located in western Seoul.
“You must consider the lower labor wages. Retraining costs would be minor and recouped in no time. My staff has analyzed the prospects and told me I could save twenty million dollars a year in labor costs if we could draw on manpower from North Korea at their current equivalent wage rate. I can only imagine what your potential auto anufacturing savings would be. Suppose instead of expanding your Tllsan manufacturing facility, you built an entirely new plant in the orthern province of Yanggang. How would that improve your competitiveness on the world markets, not to mention open access to the northern consumers?”
“Yes, but it is not so easy for me. I have unions to contend with, as well as capital budget constraints. I certainly can't throw people out on the street at Ulsan and rehire workers from the North at half the price. Besides, there's a whole mind-set that we'll need to contend with if we bring on the northern worker. After all, no socialist state was ever admired for its devotion to quality output.”
“Nothing that a dose of retraining and a taste of capitalistic wages wouldn't quickly solve,” Kang countered.
“Perhaps. But, face it, there is no consumer market for automobiles in the North. The country is an economic mess, and the average man on the street is primarily concerned with putting a meal on the table. The disposable income just isn't there to aid my industry.”
“Yes, but you are looking at the present, not the future. Our two countries are on an inescapable collision course toward unification, and those that are prepared today will reap the riches tomorrow. You had the vision to expand your manufacturing presence to India and the United States and now you are a major player in the auto industry. Have the vision of a unified Korea and help place our homeland at the forefront of world leadership.”
The auto exec blew a large puff of blue cigar smoke toward the ceiling as he contemplated Kang's words. “I can see the wisdom in your thinking. I'll have my strategy office look into it, perhaps work up some contingencies. I'm not sure I have the stomach for dealing with the political issues and approvals, with both the North and South Korean governments, to establish a presence in the North just yet,” he hedged.
Kang set down his vodka gimlet and smiled. “I have friends and influence in both governments that can come to your aid when the time is right,” he replied with understatement.
“Most gracious of you. And there is something I can do for you; my good friend, in return?” the exec replied with a smirk.
“The resolution in the National Assembly to expel the U.S. military from our soil is gaining momentum,” Kang answered. “Your support of the resolution would sway a good deal of political opinion.”
“The embarrassing news incidents with the American military personnel are admittedly making things touchy in some areas of our business. However, I am not convinced the security concerns regarding an American force withdrawal are unfounded.”
“Of course they are,” Kang lied. “The American presence promotes aggression from the North. Their removal will only stabilize relations between our countries and allow our ultimate reunification.”
“You really think it's the right thing to do?”
“It could make us very rich men, Song-woo,” Kang replied.
“We already are,” the auto executive laughed as he snuffed out his cigar in a porcelain ashtray. “We already are.”
Kang shook hands good-bye with his fellow industrialist, then took a quick ear-popping elevator ride a hundred floors down to the lobby of the sprawling business center. An accompanying bodyguard attired in black spoke into a handheld radio, and, seconds later, a red Bentley Arnage RL limousine pulled up to the curb to collect them. As Kang rode silently in the leather-bound backseat, he allowed a sense of self-congratulations to overtake him.
The plan of events was going better than expected. The staged murder of a young girl by the American airman had caused widespread outrage across the country. Mothers were staging numerous protests outside of American military bases, while a mob of loud anotous college students had marched on the U.S. embassy. Kang's corporate administrative staff had orchestrated an intense letter-writing campaign that bombarded a score of local politicians with demands to oust the foreign armed forces. And Kang's extortion of several National Assembly leaders had initiated the political resolution that South Korea's president would soon have to contend with. Now he was working the business leadership community, which had the real clout with both the media and the members of the National Assembly.
The North Korean leadership in Pyongyang was doing their part in the deception by talking up reunification on every public front. As a goodwill gesture signaling improved relations, they temporarily lifted a majority of the travel restrictions to the north. With additional fanfare, they announced that an army armored division was being pulled back from the DMZ in a peaceful move, though failed to admit that they were just being repositioned a short distance away. Facts to the contrary, a peaceful and friendly front was being promoted in the spirit that a Madison Avenue ad exec would admire.
The Bentley drove into downtown Seoul, turning through the gates of a nondescript low-rise glass building marked with a small sign, stating simply: kang enterprises-semiconductor division. The luxury car continued past a crowded parking lot, then down a small alleyway that led to the back of the building and the shoreline of the Han River. The driver stopped in front of a private dock, where Kang's Italian motor yacht was tied up. A servant welcomed Kang and his bodyguard aboard as the engines were started, and, before he had entered the main cabin, the yacht was cast off for its commute back to Kang's estate.