Ryan caught up with him after the ship's doctor had tended to the NUMA captain's leg and confined him to a bunk next to the crewman with the broken leg.
“How's the prognosis, sir?”
“The knee's a mess but I'll live.”
“They do amazing things with artificial joints these days,” Ryan encouraged.
“Apparently, I'll be finding that out in an intimate way. Beats a peg leg, I guess. What's the state of the crew?”
“In good spirits now. With the exception of Dirk and Summer, the Sea Rover's crew is all aboard and accounted for. I borrowed Captain Malaka's satellite phone and called Washington. I was able to speak directly with Rudi Gunn and informed him of our situation after briefing him on the loss of the ship. I let him know that our recovered cargo, along with Dirk, Summer, and the submersible, is believed aboard the Japanese cable ship. He asked me to express his thanks to you for saving the crew and promised that the highest levels of the government will be activated to apprehend those responsible.”
Morgan stared blankly at a white wall, his mind tumbling over the events of the past few hours. Who were these pirates that had attacked and sunk his ship? What was their intent with the biological weapons? And what had become of Dirk and Summer?. Not generating any answers, he simply shook his head slowly.
“I just hope it won't be too late.”
After sailing north for a day and a half, the Baekjegradually arched its bow around toward an easterly heading. Landfall was spotted at dusk, and the ship waited until dark before creeping into a large harbor amid a hazy fog. Dirk and Summer surmised that they had, in fact, sailed to Korea and correctly guessed that they were in the South's large port city of Inchon, based on the number of internationally flagged freighters and containerships they passed entering the port.
The cable-laying ship moved slowly past the wide-spaced commercial docks that busily loaded and unloaded huge containerships around the clock. Turning north, the Baekje crept past an oil refinery terminal, snaking around a rusty tanker ship before entering a dark and less developed corner of the harbor. Drifting past a decrepit-looking shipyard housing scores of decomposing hulks, the ship slowed as it approached a small side channel that ran to the northwest. A guard hut with a small speedboat alongside stood at the entrance to the channel, beneath a rusting sign that proclaimed, in Korean: kang MARINE SERVICES----PRIVATE.
The Baekje^ captain maneuvered the ship gently into the channel and proceeded several hundred yards at a slow creep before rounding a sharp bend. The channel fed into a small lagoon, which was dwarfed by a massive pair of covered docks that sat at the opposite end. As if pulling a car into the garage, the Baekjeh captain inched the ship into one of the cavernous hangars that towered a solid fifty feet above the ship's forecastle. The ship was tied off under a field of bright halogen lamps that hung from the ceiling, while a large hydraulic door quietly slid shut behind them, completely concealing the vessel from outside eyes.
A crane immediately swung over and a half-dozen crewmen began unloading the ordnance containers, which were lowered to the dock under Tongju's supervision. Once the bomb canisters were stacked on the deck in an orderly pyramid, a large white panel truck backed down the dock to the cargo. Another group of men, wearing powder blue lab coats, carefully loaded the weapons into the back of the truck, then drove away from the ship. As it turned a corner at the end of the dock, Tongju could see the familiar blue lightning bolt emblazoned on the side of the truck, beneath the words kang satellite telecommunications CORP.
Kim approached as Tongju watched the truck exit the hangar through a guarded doorway.
“Mr. Kang will be quite pleased when he learns that we have recovered all of the ordnance,” Kim stated.
“Yes, though two of the twelve are worthless. The submersible pilots cracked open the last two shells and released the armament into the water. An accident, they claim, due to a loss of visibility in the water.”
“An inconsequential loss. The overall mission was quite successful.”
“True, but there is still a difficult operation ahead of us. I am tak tag the prisoners to Kang in order for him to interrogate them. I trust that you will administer to the ship preparations satisfactorily,” he stated rather than asked.
“The reconfiguration of the vessel, as well as the replenishment of fuel and provisions, will begin immediately. I will ensure that the ship is ready to depart the minute our cargo is reloaded.”
“Very well. The sooner we get to sea, the better our chances of success.”
“We have surprise on our side. There is no way we can fail,” Kim said confidently.
But Tongju knew otherwise. Taking a long puff on a lit cigarette, he considered the element of surprise. It could indeed mean the difference between life and death.
“Let us just hope that our deception endures,” he finally replied thoughtfully.
Belowdecks, Dirk and Summer were roughly roused from their cabin cell, a thick-necked guard first handcuffing their wrists behind their backs before shoving them out of the room. They were marched at gunpoint to a gangway leading off the ship, where Tongju stood watching with a sneer on his face.
“It was a lovely cruise. You never did show us where the shuffle-board court was located, however,” Dirk said to the assassin.
“Now, be honest,” Summer piped in. “The food didn't exactly warrant a five-star rating.”
“The American sense of humor is hardly amusing,” Tongju grunted, his cold eyes showing that he was not the least bit entertained.
“By the way, what exactly is the Japanese Red Army doing in Inchon, Korea?” Dirk asked bluntly.
A barely perceptible arch crossed Tongju's brow.
“Most observant, Mr. Pitt.” Then, ignoring his captives further, he turned to Thick Neck, who cradled an AK-74 leveled at the pair.
“Take them to the high-speed launch and lock them in the forward berth under guard,” he barked, then turned on his heels and marched to the bridge.
Dirk and Summer were marshaled down the gangplank and across the dock to a smaller side slip, where a sleek-looking motor yacht was tied up. It was a thirty-one-meter South Pacific marine high-speed catamaran, painted a teal blue. Designed and built for passenger ferry service, it had been refitted as a fast oceangoing personal luxury yacht. Equipped with four-thousand-horsepower diesel engines, the luxury cat could cruise along at speeds over 35 knots.
“Now, this is more my style,” Summer commented as they were prodded aboard and locked in a small but plushly appointed center berth.
“No windows this time. Guess Mr. Hospitality didn't like your Inchon crack,” Summer added as she curled her way into a small salon chair, her hands still cuffed behind her back.
“Me and my big mouth,” Dirk replied. “At least we now have a rough idea of where we are.”
“Yes ... right in the middle of deep kimchi. Well, if we got to go, at least we get to go first class,” she said, admiring the walnut paneling and expensive artwork adorning the walls. “These guys certainly have some deep pockets for a second-rate terrorist organization.”
“Apparently, they have some friends at Kang Enterprises.”
“The shipping company?”
"A large conglomerate. We've seen their commercial freighters around for years. They're also involved in some other high-tech businesses as well, though I'm only familiar with their shipping division. I met a guy in a bar once who worked as an oiler on one of their ships. He told me about their enclosed repair and storage facility in Inchon. Never seen anything like it. There's supposedly a dry dock at one end,